


Bond Price

by Stasia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Spousal Abuse, George Barnes is a terrible father, Howard Stark's Good Parenting, Infidelity, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern Bucky Barnes, Not Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Tony Stark, POV Bucky Barnes, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Time Skips, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 70,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stasia/pseuds/Stasia
Summary: Bucky 's soul mark is just like everyone else's. Well, they're all different - Sascha's is a spray of pink stars - but he's got one exactly where everyone else does, on his left deltoid. His is a red star with lines coming out of it.One day, when he's twelve, his father takes him to meet his soul mate and nothing in his life is ever the same again.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 352
Kudos: 338





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Value Of Bucky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262853) by [camichats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats). 



> This jumps about a bit in time. After the first jump, it progresses pretty much chronologically. Other than modern!Bucky, nothing else has changed. Steve is still Captain America, there's still Hydra, all the rest continues.
> 
> 85% of people have soul mates and most people meet their mate sometime in their late teens or early twenties. Not having a soul mate just means you can choose whoever you want to be with, but it's not thought of as a 'tragedy'. Not all soul mate pairings are perfect; people are still people, and sometimes, people are cruel and mean.

_Prologue_

Bucky woke up after the Chitauri attack without his left arm. It had been crushed, he was told, and amputation had been the only choice. 

The nurses asked him if he wanted them to contact his bondmate; they couldn’t tell who it was, since his left arm hadn’t been recovered. As he started to answer, he remembered the angry twist to Tony’s face in their last fight and he changed his response. 

“Nah, thanks. I’m unbonded,” he said, ignoring the ache in his chest at the lie. 


	2. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets his soul mate and it doesn't go well.

**1980**

“Come on, Becca,” Bucky called. Their father had been acting weird the past couple of days and Bucky wanted to be inside before he got home. Bucky sighed, hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder, and went to take his sister’s hand. “Maybe Sascha’s mom’ll let you have one of her cookies.”

Becca’s fingers curled into his and she smiled. “I like the choc’lit ones. D’you think she’ll have choc’lit?”

Bucky nodded. “Sure, maybe.” He knew that Sascha’s mom would make chocolate chip cookies for Becca if she asked, even if she hadn’t already made them for Sascha.

They were sitting at the table, a small plate with cookies in front of Becca, when his father swung in through the front door. Bucky saw him glance around the room, his face locked in the bitter expression he’d worn since Bucky’s mom died. Then he saw Bucky and smiled broadly. 

“Hey, Buckaroo,” he said, taking the three steps to cross the room. “I think our ship’s just come in.” He rubbed his hands together. “I saw something at work today and, if I play it right, things will finally go our way.”

Bucky felt something in his stomach twist. That had been Mom’s nickname for him. Dad never called him Buckaroo; dad always called him James.

His father crouched down next to Bucky’s left arm and lifted his sleeve, looking at the soul mark on his shoulder. He ran a thumb over it and smiled. Something in the smile made Bucky uncomfortable and he jerked his arm away. Dad’s eyes narrowed and he stood up. 

“Who said you could eat those?” he asked Becca.

“George,” Sascha’s mom said, coming in from the kitchen. “I made them and the kids are doing their homework.” She crossed her arms and stared straight at Dad. 

George looked down at Becca. “Don’t eat any more. Soon, I’ll get you all the cookies you want.”

Becca’s eyes widened. _She hasn’t learned yet that Dad always lies._ “You will? C’n I have coke?”

“No, myshka,” Sascha’s mom said. “You’ve had enough sugar for now.”

George collapsed on the couch and glowered. Bucky had just learned that word in school and felt very proud that he could describe his dad’s expression so well. The glower fell off his dad’s face, though, and he smiled again, but it was still all wrong. 

“Anyway, Buckaroo, next week we’ll go down to Stark’s and then all our problems will be over.” He laced his fingers behind his head and grinned.

The following Wednesday, George kept Bucky out of school. Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about that; they were going to have a math test, so it was nice to get out of it, but he had studied for it. It seemed a shame to waste all that work.

“Don’t you have anything nicer than that?” his father asked, when Bucky stood in front of him wearing his best pants and shirt. 

Bucky shrugged. _I don’t know why I have to wear nice things just to go to dad’s work._ George worked in building things. He was always dirty when he came home from work. “I don’t have anything else,” Bucky said. 

George grunted. “It’ll have to do. Come on.” He thrust Bucky’s backpack at him, then grabbed Bucky by the upper arm and dragged him down the stairs, along the street and into the subway. He let go for a moment, to buy a single ticket, then held Bucky close as he shoved it into the machine, pushing Bucky so they went through together. 

On the ride, he held onto Bucky’s backpack. Bucky wondered what was in it; he’d thought he wouldn’t need it, since he wasn’t going to school. Maybe he’d go after they finished whatever they were doing at his father’s job. He might get to use his studying after all.

But they didn’t end up at the building his father was working on. They came out of the subway into downtown. George didn’t pause but grabbed Bucky’s arm again and plunged forward into the crowds. They ended up near the park, next to a huge mansion. To Bucky’s confusion, that’s where they were going.

“Dad,” Bucky said, pulling on his arm. “I thought we were going to your work.”

“Shut up, kid. I’m making everything okay.” George knocked on a small door near the back of the building and waited, irritatedly tapping his foot when the door didn’t open immediately. That was a bad sign, so Bucky slid backwards until he was far enough away he might be able to scamper off before George could hit him.

Finally, someone came to the door. He and George talked for a few minutes – George seemed to be trying to convince the guy of something – then his father turned and smiled at him. This time, there was definitely something wrong. The smile had too many teeth and his eyes were flat and hard. 

“Come here, son,” George said. “I just want to show this man—”

“As I said, you may call me Jarvis.” He was taller than George, but not by much. 

George shot him a look. “Yeah, sure. Come here, kid.” When Bucky sidled close, George pulled his left sleeve up, showing the bottom of his soul mark. “See?” George said to Jarvis. “It’s a match.”

 _Oh, did he find my soul mate?_ Bucky looked at his own arm and wondered if Jarvis’ kid would even like him. He couldn’t be soul mates with someone who lived in a place like this. 

His father took his hand and they walked along corridors with fancy carpets and lined with big paintings. Bucky noticed that there were servants around – regular people like him. Maybe his soul mate was the kid of one of them. That made more sense than thinking he was supposed to be matched with a rich kid.

After what felt like fifteen minutes of walking down different hallways that all looked nearly the same, they came to a closed wooden door. Jarvis tapped on it, then walked in. George shoved in behind him and Bucky saw the adults in the room glare at George for a moment.

One of them, a man with dark hair and a thin moustache, came toward them. He looked friendly, but the big guy behind him made up for it by looking extra mean. Bucky tried to stand behind his father. _I don’t like this place. Why couldn’t we go to where the normal people are so I can meet my soul mate? Why’d we have to come here first?_

“So,” the friendly-looking man said, smacking his hands together and rubbing them. “This is the tyke, huh?” He squatted down to get closer to Bucky’s height. “Kinda thin, aren’t you?”

“I feed him,” George said sharply. 

“Never said you didn’t. Jarvis here is a skinny guy and he’s as tough as the day is long,” the strange man said. He stuck his hand out. “Howard Stark.” 

Bucky stared at him, then slowly held his own hand out. “James Barnes.” Mr. Stark’s hand was large and warm, and he pumped Bucky’s hand up and down once before letting go. 

“Well, James, I know this’ll be just a formality – I’m sure you understand – but can you come up here and sit in this chair? This man – he’s a doctor, very good – he just needs to check something and then you can meet—” 

“It’s real, you don’t need to check it,” George snapped. He looked furious, but something in the way the four other men in the room looked at him made him fall silent. He looked unexpectedly small and Bucky felt his stomach twist. Sure, his dad was mean, but that didn’t make it okay for him to look like that.

“I’m ready to be tested,” he said and everyone turned to him. “What do I have to do?”

The fourth stranger, who’d been standing away from the group, came forward. “I’m Dr. Jonas. Good to meet you. If you sit up here—” He patted a tall chair next to a table with some bottles and cloths. “I’ll just need you to roll up your sleeve.” 

Bucky climbed into the chair and rolled up his sleeve. The doctor poured some green liquid onto a cloth and wiped it over Bucky’s mark, then waited a minute. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to meeting Tony,” Dr. Jonas said.

“Who’s Tony?” Bucky watched the way the green liquid was getting thicker and stiffer on his arm, like lime Jell-O. 

“He’s my son,” Mr. Stark said. He’d come closer while Bucky was watching the Jell-O. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Bucky looked up. “Sure, sir. That’ll be fun.” Dr. Jonas soaked a different cloth in a white liquid and sprinkled something pink onto it that sparkled, then scrubbed Bucky’s arm hard. “OW!” Bucky yelped.

“Sorry, kid,” the doctor said. He held Bucky’s arm out so everyone in the room could see it. The mark looked the same as always—a red star in a circle, with blue and red lines radiating out from the circle—but Bucky’s arm was red from the way the doctor had rubbed it. “It’s real,” the doctor said. “One hundred percent authentic. Congratulations, kid.” 

“Thanks, I guess.” Bucky pulled his sleeve back down and concentrated on buttoning his cuff instead of looking at the adults, who were all talking over each other. All he wanted to do was get out of this room and go find wherever they had his soul mate. _Why would I fake a soul mark, anyway?_

There was the sound of tearing paper and Bucky looked up to see his dad at the door. He slid off the chair. “Oh, are we finally going to see my soul mate?” he asked.

George turned around. “Sure, Buckaroo. I’m just going out for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He slipped out the door and closed it behind himself and confusion washed through Bucky. Where was dad going?

The door opened again and Bucky expected to see his father, but instead, it was Jarvis with a boy a little younger than Bucky. He was thin and looked eagerly around the room before making a bee-line for Bucky.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Tony. But you probably already know that. Come on, I want to show you everything. We’ve got our own suite of rooms—we weren’t sure what kind of bed you liked, so we got you a couple to choose from. I thought we might like to have bunk-beds. You know,” he stopped and grinned at Bucky. “Like, we could stay up at night, even when Father says we should be sleeping.” 

Bucky stepped backwards slightly, aware that the adults had all fallen silent and were watching him. “Why would I get my own bed here? I’m supposed to be meeting my soul mate, and then I’ll be going home, right?” He saw Mr. Stark’s expression change and he said, speaking fast, “I mean, thank you. A new bed sounds real great, I’m sure me and Becca’ll like it. It’ll be much better than the one we’ve got now. Anything’ll be better than that old mattress.”

Tony looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “But you’re staying here. Who’s Becca?”

“My sister,” Bucky said, staring at Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark’s expression was a weird mixture of angry and sad and Bucky just knew, suddenly, that his dad wasn’t going to come back with the son or daughter of one of the people who worked here. “Mr. Stark?”

“Call me Howard,” he said. His face had settled on sad and for some reason that made Bucky mad. “We’ve arranged for you to stay here with us,” Howard continued, sitting in the chair where the doctor had examined Bucky’s soul mark. “We thought it might be nice for you and Tony to grow up together. Get to know each other.”

“I… Okay,” Bucky said. He turned back to Tony. “Hi. I’m James.”

Tony started toward the door. “Come on, let’s go play with some of my toys. I guess they’re our toys now.” At the door he turned. “Why’d your dad call you Buckaroo?”

Bucky stopped and felt his shoulders hunch. “It’s my mom’s nickname for me.”

“Huh. My mom just calls me Mayhem.” Tony grinned as the adults behind them laughed. “Come on, I wanna show you my flying trains.”

Flying trains did sound pretty cool, so Bucky trailed after him. After they’d gone down two corridors and around at least three corners, Tony turned sharply and said, “So I wanna see it.”

“See what?” Bucky stepped backward from Tony’s fierce expression. Something about the feeling that Tony might be mad at him made his stomach churn.

“Your soul mark! Don’t you want to see mine?” 

Tony dragged his teeshirt sleeve up and thrust his thin arm forward. Bucky unbuttoned his cuff and rolled the sleeve up, holding his arm out for Tony to look at. Tony’s face lit as he touched Bucky’s arm carefully. 

“They match,” he breathed. He looked up into Bucky’s face. He looked delighted. “That means you’re mine.”

Bucky flinched back and pulled his sleeve back down. “I don’t belong to no one but me.” He pulled his bag back over his shoulder. “I wanna go back home now.” 

“Aww, come on, I’m going to show you my trains and then I’ll show you where you’re staying. We’ve got lots of stuff for you already, but we didn’t get many clothes. Clothes are boring, don’t you think? I wanted to get you a microscope, but Jarvis wasn’t sure you’d want that. Don’t you want a microscope?” Tony kept moving down the hall while he was talking, without even looking back at Bucky. He turned the corner at the end of the corridor and Bucky could hear his voice fade into the distance.

Bucky stared after him, his stomach churning. Part of him wanted to tag along after Tony, but another part of himself, something that felt like gritting his teeth and pulling against the heaviest rock he could find, held still and fumed. When he’d stood in silence for long enough for the feeling of resistance to transform into worry, he realized that not only had he been rude to his host, but now he was lost. 

He hitched his pack over both shoulders, shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets, where his fists wouldn’t show, and turned back the way they’d come. Surely he could find that room again, with the adults in it, and then one of them could take him to school and then everything would be normal again. Maybe he could visit Tony on weekends or something.

He got lost. Loster. More lost. He couldn’t remember if they’d turned left or right at the second intersection, and then he ended up in a large room with paintings on the walls and sculptures on stands all over. 

“How do you have a museum in your house?” he muttered. “Or maybe they just live in a museum. I wonder if people could live in a museum, the way the Rosettis live over their shop. I’ll bet there are whole families who live upstairs.” 

He sat down on one of the benches and stared at a painting of people having a picnic. The colors were weird – pinks and pale yellows instead of normal greens and stuff – but it was pretty and soothing. It was too bad that there was food, though, because he was hungry and he was still lost. 

“Ah, there you are.” The voice was calm and pleased, and didn’t sound at all angry.

Bucky turned to see Jarvis coming across the room toward him, a slight smile on his face. Bucky stood up, not sure if he was in trouble.

“Master Stark said that you ran off.” Jarvis came to stand next to Bucky. “I have always liked this painting. The way the light falls onto the woman’s back has always pleased me. It looks like early spring. A bit chilly for a picnic, perhaps, but an exceptional time to be out of doors.”

Bucky shifted on his feet. “I—the colors are nice. I like the way the trees make shadows.” He fidgeted with his pack straps. “I ain’t going to school today, am I?”

Jarvis turned to face him. Whatever he saw of Bucky’s expression made him sigh deeply and sit down on the bench. “I believe the plan is for you to take an assessment test or two and then be assigned private tutors, as Master Stark has.”

“I ain’t stupid. I don’t need tutors!” Bucky was furious. How dare they decide that he couldn’t keep up with schoolwork!

“Ah.” Jarvis pursed his lips slightly then said, “How much of this has been discussed with you?”

“Of what?” 

The room was silent for a long moment, then Jarvis nodded sharply as if he’d had something confirmed. “The tutoring isn’t because Mr. Stark believes you incapable. Rather the reverse. Master Stark is far ahead of his age group in ability and education, and Mr. Stark wished to provide you with the same level of instruction. However, if you prefer to continue with group education, perhaps something could be worked out.” He stood up and held a hand out toward the door where he’d come into the room. “Lunch is about to be served in the dining room. I think your educational future would be an interesting topic of conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he was interested in lunch, so he followed after Jarvis. 

“Hey, Jarvis?” 

The tall man turned and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Is Jarvis your first or last name?”

“It is my surname.” Jarvis started walking again and Bucky trotted to keep up. 

“Why’s everyone call you by your last name?”

“It’s a sign of being in service.” 

“Does that mean that Tony’s gonna call me Barnes?”

Jarvis stopped short and turned to look at Bucky, who took a step back at his expression. A second later, Jarvis looked composed again and said, under his breath, “Damned fools, all of them.” 

“I am not,” Bucky said.

“No, I believe you’re the only one among us who isn’t. I’ll speak to Mr. Stark and we’ll get this cleared up. However, you are not in service to Master Stark and if he treats you as if you are, you must come to me or Mr. Stark and we’ll set him straight.”

Lunch was confusing. Mr. Stark was already sitting at the table, with a woman Bucky hadn’t met before sitting on his right. Tony sat across from her and there was an empty place setting next to Tony. Jarvis gestured for Bucky to sit there, so he dropped his bag under the table and climbed into the seat. 

Bucky waited for the plates to be put in the middle of the table so everyone could take what they wanted, but then a hand reached in front of him and put an already-filled plate down on the table. Bucky turned to see who’d picked for him, but her plain dress made it clear she was one of the servants. 

Jarvis didn’t sit down to eat with them. He leaned over Mr. Stark’s shoulder and said something quietly then went to stand near the wall of the room. 

“Ain’t Jarvis eating?” Bucky asked.

“Where did you go?” Tony demanded. “Why didn’t you keep up?”

Mr. Stark put a hand out toward Tony. “One moment, son. James asked a question. Jarvis eats with the staff. He’s here to help us in case we need anything.”

Bucky wondered if Jarvis ever got hungry watching other people eat. He hadn’t ever liked it when he was at school and everyone else had more than just a thin sandwich with a single piece of bologna. 

“He should go eat, then,” Bucky said. “I don’t need anything.”

Tony had already wolfed down half of his lunch and was picking at his grapes. “But you’re not who he’s here for,” he said.

“Tony, that isn’t fair,” his father said.

“It’s true.” Tony shrugged. “He’s here for us, not for Buckaroo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky snapped. He set his sandwich down. He hadn’t liked it anyway. The food was weird; the sandwiches were filled with meat paste. “I want to go home.”

“I _said_ ,” Tony said, “you’re staying here. We got you lots of stuff and we’ll get you more when we know what you like.” 

Bucky crossed his arms. Before he could say anything, Jarvis bent over Mr. Stark’s shoulder again and murmured.

“Tony,” Mr Stark said. “How about you finish up and then go work on your electronics project. I’m looking forward to seeing how you get on.” He nodded at Bucky’s plate. “And then James and I can finish eating and have a conversation about the future.”

Tony looked eager. “I should be there. It’s my future too.”

“Anthony.” The woman at the table spoke for the first time. “Your father gave you instructions. Go on and follow them. You’ll see James again later.”

“Fine, Mother. But I barely saw him now. I don’t even know if he likes transistors or microcomputers better.” Tony ate the last of his grapes and slid down off his chair. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he said to Bucky. “And then we’ll have a chance to talk more.”

Bucky wasn’t looking forward to it. He also wasn’t looking forward to having a conversation about his future with Mr. Stark. He didn’t like any of this, and the way no one would talk about him getting to go home made him anxious.

After he finished most of his lunch, he followed Mr. Stark to another room; this one was a big office, filled with bookshelves and weird equipment and a huge desk in front of wide windows overlooking Central Park. 

“Have a seat,” Mr. Stark said, gesturing to chairs at the other side of the room from the window. “I’ll just get a drink and come and we can have a chat, man to man.”

Bucky sighed and sat in one of the chairs, letting his legs dangle. 

“Jarvis tells me you want to go home and that you didn’t know about any of this.” Mr. Stark collapsed into the other chair with a huff.

“I do and I don’t know why no one will tell me what’s going on. Why can’t I go home?” Bucky’s stomach clenched on the unusual food and he tucked his hands under his legs.

Mr. Stark sipped his drink and rested the glass on the arm of his chair. “You know what soul mates are, right?”

“Yeah. Everyone knows what soul mates are. I know that Tony and I are soul mates, but that don’t got anything to do with me going home. It’s not like we’re gonna get married now.”

Mr Stark smiled for a second. “Not yet, at any rate. Ten and twelve are a bit young for marriage.” He leaned forward. “But since you two are soul mates and since Tony’s in an unusual situation, we thought it best for you to come and stay with us. We can give you access to opportunities which don’t exist in your old neighborhood and at your old school.”

“I don’t need tutors,” Bucky said quickly.

“And if you want to continue in group education, that is entirely up to you. There are schools which will support and encourage any and all of your intellectual interests.” 

“Okay.” Bucky felt like he was losing this argument. He wasn’t even sure what they were arguing about, or if they were, but he definitely felt as if he were on the losing side. “But what about my home?”

“We were rather hoping you could see this as your new home,” Mr Stark said.

There was a knock at the door and the woman came through the door, shutting it quietly behind herself. She came and perched on one of the arms of Mr. Stark’s chair.

“We haven’t been introduced yet,” she said. Her voice was calm and gentle. “My name is Maria. I’m glad to meet you.” She held out a hand and Bucky leaned forward to shake it.

“I’m Bucky,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark.”

“Really,” Mr. Stark said, “I meant it when I told you to call me Howard. You’re part of the family now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read any of my other long fics, you'll know that I end up with my research notes in the end notes of each chapter. 
> 
> [Picnic Painting](http://www.artnet.com/artists/emily-hilda-rix-nicholas/the-picnic-t895uxsG__OlIXzO0EU0Tw2)
> 
> [Tony's childhood house](https://goo.gl/maps/DrSLTdmiLkQRQGxBA) Yes, this is a museum. Or, it is now. 170 Central Park West.


	3. Exploration and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony get to know each other.

**1980**

Bucky had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The bed was nice – the bed was _amazing_ actually, especially when compared to sleeping on the floor at home – but Tony didn’t stop talking until long after Bucky was exhausted. 

When Tony finally did fall asleep – mid-word – Bucky sighed in relief and curled up around the weird large pillow Tony’d said was a ‘body pillow’. At first, Bucky had thought it sounded like some sort of confused name for what dead people were stuffed into, but then he’d remembered, no, that was a body _bag_. 

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter how he twisted and turned, nothing felt right. They’d given him _pyjamas_ , a whole matching set of shirt and long pants, which was weird enough, but then the bed had three pillows across the top, the body pillow, and both a top sheet and a fluffy blanket. Tony’d called it a ‘doovay’. It felt like there was barely room for Bucky in the bed at all.

Bucky missed Becca. He missed his own room, with the window they always kept cracked open to let the hot humid air of the street mix with the sticky humid air in the apartment. He missed the sounds from outside, the way the sirens would wail by, and the late-night arguments between Mila and her pimp. 

The windows here didn’t even open.

Bucky sighed and sat up, shoving the duvet down the bed. Maybe if he got a drink of water, he’d be able to fall asleep. He slid carefully along the bed to the ladder and climbed down. Tony lay sprawled out on the bottom bunk, his blankets pushed down to the bottom of his mattress. One of his pillows was on the floor, and his body pillow was bent in half in the corner of the bed, like some strange sort of guardian. 

Something in Bucky’s chest twinged at the sight of Tony’s sharp little face soft in sleep, and he tugged the sheet up to Tony’s waist. It wasn’t Tony’s fault that Bucky was stuck here. 

The hallways were just as confusing in the middle of the night as they’d been earlier that day. Bucky’d been sure there was a bathroom near their bedroom, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to just start opening doors. What if one of them was Mr. Stark’s bedroom? 

Eventually, he found himself faced with a staircase. Low sounds of conversation came from downstairs, so Bucky crept down the steps, pausing just past the place where the stairs turned all the way around. The stairs led down to a corridor with a few open doors. He could see Mr. Stark talking to the mean-looking man from that morning. He still looked mean, but he was laughing at something Mr. Stark said, so maybe that was just what his face looked like. 

The light shifted and Jarvis moved across the room. Bucky slid down another two steps and caught his breath as the mean man saw him. 

“Hey,” the man said, his voice now just as mean-sounding as his face looked. “That new brat is spying.”

Bucky turned to run back up the stairs, but he wasn’t used to wearing socks – Tony had insisted that socks went with the pajamas – and his feet slipped on the wood floor. He tumbled down the last few steps; on the final one, his head cracked into the stair-edge. The unexpected pain combined with the fear of being caught and, to his eternal humiliation, Bucky burst into tears. 

He heard footsteps approaching and he curled up tight, wrapping his arms firmly around his head.

“Better get some gauze, Jarvis,” Mr. Stark said, before squatting down and putting his hand on Bucky’s side. “Hey there. Did you get lost?”

Bucky pulled his knees closer to his nose. He wasn’t going to fall for that trick. Adults always asked the first question quietly, but if he answered, he just got hit faster. 

Jarvis’ feet came back into view, then he squatted down next to Mr. Stark. His face was calm and he didn’t seem angry at all. He held a couple of bottles and some gauze and a box of bandaids. 

Mr. Stark laughed. “Come on, kiddo. We’ve all seen a little blood. And the floors are hardwood, you won’t stain them.” 

Above him, the mean man barked a laugh. “Yeah, you learned that lesson after Tony ate all that blue ice cream. I still think we should look at whatever they used for food dye and see about using in the fiber division.” He stepped away and Bucky risked a glance. Mr. Stark was still next to him and his hand, still resting on Bucky’s ribs, was patting gently. 

Mr. Stark caught his eye and smiled, looking a bit rueful. “Tony was about six and insisted he could eat a whole gallon of blue razzberry ice cream. He was right – he did eat it all.”

Bucky uncurled a bit. Blue razzberry ice cream was delicious. But even his dad couldn’t eat a whole gallon at once.

“Yup,” Mr. Stark continued. “About half a minute after finishing it, Tony threw it up. It was like a fountain. Terrible. I was impressed at how much of the carpet he managed to cover. We never did get it cleaned up.” He sounded… happy. Like it wasn’t awful that his kid had wasted a whole gallon of ice cream and ruined the carpet. 

“I believe that Master Barnes has simply cut his lip on his teeth,” Jarvis said. He was smiling as well, but he was smiling directly at Bucky.

“You don’t hafta call me master, Mr. Jarvis.” Bucky swallowed the blood that had gathered in his mouth and grimaced. 

“And you’re okay!” Mr. Stark said, beaming down at him. “Good boy. Come on and sit up and we’ll get that cut cleaned and patched. Nothing to it.” 

Bucky started to sit up, then froze as the mean man came closer again. Mr. Stark glanced back over his shoulder and said, “Come on, Obie, stop looking like that. He’s not spying, for crissake. He’s a kid. He’s in a new place, he’s just lost.”

 _What kind of name is Obie?_ Bucky looked all the way up at Obie and said, “I just wanted a glass of water.”

“See?” Mr. Stark turned to face Obie, but was still crouching down near Bucky.

“If I might just get to clean Master Barnes’ face,” Jarvis said, “then I can arrange to get him the water he wanted.”

“Oh, of course,” Mr. Stark said. He stood up and ruffled Bucky’s hair. “He’ll need clean pajamas as well.”

Bucky didn’t know what expression he made but both Mr. Stark and Obie started laughing. Jarvis leaned in and gently stroked a damp cloth on Bucky’s lip, then patted it dry. 

“Not a fan of the pjs?” Mr. Stark asked, still chuckling. 

“I—” Bucky didn’t know how to answer.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a singlet and shorts man, myself.” 

Next to him, Obie said, “I like to sleep in the—”

“What’s a ‘singlet’?” Bucky hadn’t meant to interrupt, but once the question came to him, he wanted to know.

“Tank top,” Mr. Stark said. “I spent too long in jolly old England and picked up limey slang.” 

Near Bucky’s face, still dabbing gently at something, Jarvis snorted. “You’re simply intelligent enough to know when a language is better equipped.”

“What’s ‘limey’?”

“I’m off,” Obie said. He thumped Mr. Stark on the shoulder. “You’ve got your hands full here. Tomorrow let’s work on the arc plans.” He nodded at Jarvis, then squatted and looked directly at Bucky. “You’ll fit right in here, kid, asking all those questions. Good luck with Tony.” 

After he left, Bucky looked back and forth between the two remaining adults. 

Jarvis sighed and held out a hand. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Oh, go to bed yourself, Jarvis,” Mr. Stark said. “I’ll take the kid to bed. We’ve got important bed-clothes discussions to have.” He grinned down at Bucky, who found himself smiling back. 

“I’m a singlet and shorts man also,” he said, feeling very brave. 

“I’m certain that can be arranged,” Jarvis said, looking amused. “I’ll schedule a shopping trip in the next day or two and we can get you anything else you’re missing.”

On the way back to the bedroom, Mr. Stark stopped and turned to Bucky. He ran a hand through his hair then squatted down again. “I know Tony can be a bit much,” he said. He paused and looked over Bucky’s shoulder, like he was seeing something other than the green striped wallpaper. “He’s a lot like me when I was a kid. But…” and his gaze came squarely back to Bucky’s face. “But he’s a good kid, and he’ll be good for you, I think. You’ll be good for each other. Don’t let him run over you and it’ll all be okay.”

As he finally drifted off to sleep, Bucky wondered what Mr. Stark had been seeing instead of his own hallway.

The next two days were busy, but confusing. Tony didn’t go out to school, but had tutors come in. Bucky got to sit in on a couple of Tony’s lessons and was amazed to find that Tony was way ahead of him in most subjects, especially math and science. Every spare minute that wasn’t spent on schoolwork, Tony chose to spend following Bucky around and talking to him. 

Saturday morning, Tony woke Bucky by climbing onto the top bunk and jumping from the head of the ladder onto Bucky’s legs. 

“Come on, wake up,” he shouted. “We’re going shopping. We’re gonna get you some better clothes, because the ones you came were totally bad. And then when were done with clothes, I got Father to agree to going to F.A.O. Schwartz and then after _that_ , we can go to his lab and then you can pick out your first microscope.” He slithered down the ladder. “I can’t believe it’s your first, I had a microscope by the time I was seven, but I guess you didn’t need one until now.” He turned and looked back up at Bucky, who’d just woken up enough to stick his head over the edge of the bed. “Come _on_ , if we don’t hurry in Macy’s we won’t have time to to the lab before we get sushi at Hatsuhana for dinner.”

Bucky collapsed back onto the bed and groaned. “I don’t wanna go shopping. There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.” He heard a mild crash from the bathroom next door and sighed. The morning after he’d fallen down the stairs, Jarvis had taken him on a tour of the house. The first thing he’d shown Bucky was the door to the ‘en suite’ bathroom. They must have walked at least ten miles, Bucky thought later, when he collapsed into a soft chair in the room Jarvis had called the ‘children’s lounge’. 

Shopping was even weirder than Bucky expected. He’d figured that they weren’t going to shop from the clearance racks in Macy’s – he didn’t even know if Macy’s had clearance racks – but when they got to Macy’s a pretty woman brought them to an elevator that needed a key. At the top floor, Tony barreled out, dragging Bucky by the arm. 

“I love the view from up here,” he said, looking down through the windows. “Everyone looks so small.”

“That’s just because you’re small and you—” Bucky started to say, then stopped. He didn’t know if Tony liked being teased.

But Tony just snorted. “Just you wait,” he said. “I’m going to be tall when I grow up. Taller than you, that’s for sure.” 

Then a bunch of men in suits came in and started talking to Mrs. Stark about Bucky’s clothes and he got pulled away from the view and Tony.  
They stood him on a little table and one of the men measured him everywhere, even between his legs. He flinched at that, and Jarvis came forward. 

“They’re just taking your inseam measurement,” he said, “so that when they make your trousers, they’ll be the correct length.”

“Uh, okay,” Bucky said. Then he turned and stared at Jarvis. “What do you mean ‘make’?”

They finished at Macy’s with more clothes than Bucky’s whole family had owned in their entire life, and, apparently, plans to make another full set of clothes for him. 

Their time at Stark Labs was even more stressful. Bucky didn’t know what he could and couldn’t touch and Tony spent most of the time they were there either enthusing about something Bucky didn’t understand or saying that he couldn’t believe that Bucky hadn’t heard of something complicated and scientific. By the time they left, with the addition of Mr. Stark, Bucky felt sick to his stomach and angry.

Dinner was raw fish, to Bucky’s absolute horror. Tony, who’d settled in behind a large plate filled with quivering slabs of fish all perched on tiny balls of rice, stared at him in confusion. “But sushi’s delicious,” he said, and used two sticks to get one of the disgusting things into his mouth. It was slightly too big for him to be able to close his lips all the way as he chewed, and Bucky closed his eyes. 

“Isn’t there anything, you know, cooked?” 

Across from him, Jarvis smiled. “I suggest you try beef teriyaki, or perhaps you might like chicken katsu.” Bucky was relieved to see that, while all of the Starks were happily eating the raw food, Jarvis had a sensible dish of what looked like beef in steak sauce. 

“I’ll have that,” Bucky said, pointing to Jarvis’ plate. “If that’s okay.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “Anything you like, kiddo. But Tony’s right, sushi is delicious.” 

Tony watched as Bucky asked for a fork and knife to cut up his meat and said, not quietly enough for Bucky not to hear it, “I don’t know why you’re my soul mate. You don’t like anything good.”

That night, lying in bed listening to Tony snore, Bucky found himself crying again. He missed home. When he’d gotten control of himself, he lay on his back and stared at the stupid un-opening window. “I won’t tell you this, Tony, but I think you’re right. I don’t know why I’m your soul mate either. I think maybe something’s gone wrong and I’m supposed to be someone else’s soul mate.”

The next day was much better. Over breakfast, which was served in the same room as they’d eaten lunch in the first day, Tony suggested that they explore the house. Mr. Stark laughed and leaned forward. “Don’t forget to look for the secret treasure.”

They started in their bedroom. Tony handed Bucky a notebook. It was bulging with drawings and sketches; there were glued-in sheets of paper which were large maps. Bucky unfolded one and laid it out on one of the tables in the room near the windows.

“Wow,” Bucky said, tracing his finger over the lines of the map. “Is all of this in this house?”

Tony leaned on the table next to him, close enough for his arm to rub against Bucky’s. Bucky felt a shiver run up his back at the contact. “No, some of this is from my dad’s office, but this part—” He ran a hand over the left side of the map. “This is all here. I think it connects to the office somehow, but I haven’t figured out how.”

They folded up all the maps and turned to a fresh page in the notebook. Tony wrote the date neatly at the top of the page and, after a moment, wrote Bucky’s name at the top as well. 

“We should start at the top. I’ll take you to the parts I already know,” Tony said, leading the way down the hall. He stopped at an elevator and pushed the UP button. “That way, when I go back to school, you can keep exploring.”

“There’s an elevator?” Bucky asked, following Tony into the elevator. “And what do you mean, go back to school?”

Tony pressed the top button. “Oh, I go to a boarding school in Massachusetts. I only came down to meet you.” The doors opened quietly, exposing a long, well-lit corridor. Tony strode forward. “Anyway, I think Father’s planning on seeing if you pass the entrance exams for my school. I think it would be cool to go to school together. I’m sure you’re good at something.”

Bucky felt his pleasure at getting to explore the house evaporate. “I’m good at plenty of things.” He stopped walking. “Just because I haven’t taken fucking calculus yet doesn’t mean I’m not good at things.”

Tony turned around, a dismayed expression flickering across his face. Then he said, “Sure, but what’ll you do without a good education?”

“What?” Bucky stopped walking. “What the hell. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to school. You said I’m not good at things and I—oh you know what?” He threw the notebook down. “I give up. You’re just a jerk.” He spun around and started to stalk back to the elevator. Maybe he could ask Jarvis to take him home and he could talk this over with Sascha. She always had good ideas. The time they’d used Russian to talk to each other behind their teacher’s back had been great.

“No, wait!” Bucky heard Tony run after him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Come on. I want to show you the lab.” 

Bucky sighed. “I saw the lab, remember? Yesterday, after that awful… after we went shopping.”

Tony shifted on his feet. “There’s another lab here, with better stuff. I know Father’ll let us look at it. There’s a ball with electric trapped in it and if you touch it, you get zapped. It’ll probably make your hair stand all the way up.” He crossed his arms and Bucky thought Tony must be trying to look cool. 

“I don’t think it could really make all my hair stand up,” Bucky said. The pleased expression on Tony’s face made something in his middle feel warm and happy. 

They spent the rest of the day happily exploring – Tony showed Bucky several secret passages and they found a door that led to a dead-end hallway. After dinner, they kept going, ending up downstairs where Bucky had hit his head. The doors were all closed this time, but they could hear the adults talking. Tony lit up and whispered, “Hey, wanna hear what they’re talking about?” At Bucky’s nod, he opened a door down the hall and pulled Bucky in. 

“We’re going to listen to them from a room with paper in it?”

“No, we’re going to climb into the vents.” Tony pointed at the ceiling where, sure enough, there was a large air vent without any cover. 

“Oh, cool!” Bucky helped Tony to the top of the shelves, then carefully climbed after him, sliding as quietly as he could along the metal tube. Suddenly, they came out into a little chamber with holes looking into the room the adults were in.

It was large and lit with several lights. Bucky had a hard time seeing the whole room at once because the holes were small, but Mr. Stark was there and his friend Obie, and another man he didn’t recognize. They were laughing as he and Tony started watching. 

“So, you’ve got another stray,” the stranger said. 

Mr. Stark smiled into his drink. “Yeah, James. He’s a good kid, be good for Tony to have some competition.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be competition for Tony,” Obie said. “But I think he’ll keep Tony on his toes, that’s for sure.” 

The stranger chuckled. “Tony think he’s cute?”

Mr. Stark shrugged. “Tony thinks he’s someone who’ll do what all the other kids do, either anything he’s told or beat him up. I don’t think he’s ready for someone who won’t do either.”

Bucky turned to look at Tony, who pressed his face harder against the holes he was using to spy on the adults.

“Cost a pretty penny to get him, though.” Obie gestured at the liquor bottles. “I’m having another – anyone else?”

“I’ll have one,” the stranger said. “What do you mean, cost?”

“We gave Barnes five million dollars.”

Bucky yanked his face back, suddenly very very cold. _What does he mean, gave Barnes five million. My dad… sold me?_ He turned to look at Tony, who was looking back at him, his face a mask of fury.

“Did your dad say five million dollars?” Bucky whispered.

“I don’t care.” Tony whispered back, moving toward the opening to the vent back to the office supply room. “I’m going to bed.”

Bucky felt dizzy. If his dad had gotten that much money, he could still be living with them, in the apartment. Maybe they could get a better apartment, one where he and Becca could have their own rooms. Sascha could come for sleepovers and he could still be living with his family. 

Bucky clambered out after Tony, his mind whirling with confused plans. He’d go out tomorrow and go home and convince his dad that he should stay home. They had enough money now. 

When he got back to their bedroom, Tony had already gone to bed. Bucky brushed his teeth and climbed up the ladder to the top bunk. 

When Bucky woke up, Tony was already gone. He got dressed and found his backpack, which had been shoved to the back of the closet he’d been told was his. It was filled with the clothes from the shopping trip as well as some which had been bought for him before he moved in. He couldn’t find his old clothes, so he dressed in some of the new ones. They were nicer, and it felt good to wear something that wasn’t third or fourth hand.

No one was in the breakfast room, but Bucky was too excited to notice much. He spread jam on a couple slices of toast, carefully poured himself a cup of milk from the jug sitting in the little glass-fronted fridge on the serving table, sat at the table to eat. 

When he’d finished, he heaved his pack onto his shoulder and slipped down the hallway toward the front door. _It’s a good thing we did all that exploring. I’d have gotten lost two days ago._

Outside, he recoiled for a second from the sudden shift from stillness to the heaving bustle of the city, but then slid into the crowd, just one more body in the flowing stream of pedestrians.

On the subway, he waited until the guard wasn’t looking to climb over the turnstile. The ride was peaceful; he’d always liked the gentle rocking of the train as it rattled through the stations. When he’d made it back to Brooklyn, he performed the same trick at the turnstiles and trotted down the street toward home.

It wasn’t until he was across the street from his apartment building that he paused. What if his dad wasn’t home? What would he tell Sascha’s mother? He grinned. He’d tell her all about it and she’d be so excited for him and his dad and Becca.

He ran across the street, dodging a passing taxi, and tugged at the heavy door. The stairs smelled terrible – how had he forgotten how they smelled in such a short time? He turned the corner onto the first floor and ran up the stairs to the second. 

His apartment door was open and banging sounds came from inside. He trotted down the hall, wondering what Sascha’s mom was doing. _Maybe dad’s having the pipes fixed, finally._

Two giant construction workers were pulling down one of the walls and laughing at something a third man had said from back in the bedrooms. One of them turned and saw him.

“Hey kid,” he said. “Get outta here. You could get hurt.”

“But, this is my apartment,” Bucky said. He leaned back and double checked the number on the door, but it was the right one. “Where is Sasha? Where’s my dad?”

The construction worker came closer and squatted down. “I dunno, kid, but we’ve been working here three days and it was empty when we got here. Don’t no one live here.”

Bucky shook his head. “But.. _I_ live here.”

“Not no more, kid.” He stood up. 

Bucky backed down the hall and to the head of the stairs. None of this made any sense. Where would Sascha and her mom go? Where was Becca?

Just then, a door down the hall opened and Mrs. Krayevsky followed her little white dog out of her apartment. “Why, Jimmy,” she said, her voice thin. “I thought you’d gone to go live with your mother’s family. What are you doing back so soon?”

Bucky ran to her. “Where are they? Where’d they go? What happened, Mrs. Krayevsky?” He heaved in a breath. “When did they go?”

She turned and locked her door, carefully working through the five different locks. “Your father and Becca left the key with me on Thursday morning.”

“Thursday…” Bucky staggered. 

“Yes,” she said. “He seemed a bit rushed, but what do you expect? He said your mother’s family came to collect you and he was going someplace west with your sister.” She tapped her cane on the floor. “It did seem hurried, but he wanted to catch a train.”

Bucky leaned back against the wall. “Thank… thank you, Mrs. Krayevsky.” He didn’t hear what she said in return.

Some time later, he stumbled down the stairs and out onto the street. 

“Ah, I did wonder if I should come up to retrieve you.” Jarvis stood next to a car parked in front of the little shop next door to the apartment. He looked calm and patient and Bucky felt a well of sorrow rise up into his throat. “Are you all right?”

“He left me.” Bucky rubbed his nose and tried not to let the tears stinging his eyes come forward. “He took money from Tony’s father and he left me. I don’t know—I don’t know where Becca is. I don’t know—” And it was too late, the tears fell, coursing down his face, filling him with humiliation and despair.

Jarvis stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him. “I am very sorry,” he said in his deep, calm voice. He stroked Bucky’s hair back from his forehead. 

Bucky collapsed against his solid bulk and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The restaurant they dine in was a very big deal in the 80s.
> 
> [Hatsuahana](https://nypost.com/2016/10/08/the-7-restaurants-that-changed-new-york-city/)


	4. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never fun to wake up in a hospital bed.

**2012**

When Bucky woke up, Nat was glaring at him. He tried to say something, but his throat was entirely dry. At the sound, she offered him the straw from a cup of water, her expression unchanging. When he’d drunk his fill, she put the cup back on the plastic table next to his bed.

“Tony?” he rasped.

“I understand why you might not want him to know where you are,” she said, her voice arctic, “but if you think that you’re not—”

He tried to reach for her, but remembered too late that his arm was missing. “Natashenka…” he coughed. “Nat, I wasn’t trying to cut you off.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

Just then, a nurse bustled into the room, arms full of tasks and needles and questions from his doctor. An exhausting twenty minutes later, she left, promising to bring him something for lunch. “Something soft,” she threatened, and he sighed.

“How did you find me?” 

Natasha stared at him. “He won’t think to look for you under the name James Jarvis,” she said, finally.

“Ah.” They were silent. She looked clean and neat, but he saw scrapes on the side of her face, and the way she was babying her whole right side. Then he pulled in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You can’t hide from him forever.” 

“I know.” The nurse returned, with Jell-O, chicken broth, and another glass of water. 

“Your sister said that she’ll help you,” the nurse said, “so I’ll leave this here for you. Be careful not to move your shoulder if you can.”

She closed the door behind her and Bucky winced as Nat moved the head of the bed up. 

“сестра? I can feed myself,” he said. She didn’t give him a chance to try; the second his mouth was open, she shoved a spoonful of gelatin in.

She smirked. “I had to tell them something. This is what you deserve for trying to hide.” She smirked again at his glower and lifted another spoonful, this one of thin soup. “If you’re a good little родной брат, I’ll see if I can get you some ice cream for dessert.”

“I’ll settle for sushi, if I ever get out of here.” 

When he’d eaten as much as he could—which was less than half of what had been provided—he leaned back with a sigh. His shoulder ached, his whole left side felt raw and sore, and he couldn’t feel Tony. 

“What happened?” He wanted to ask about Tony, ask if he was okay, find out what he was doing, but he gritted his teeth and ignored that impulse. Just because they were soul mates didn’t mean they were actually involved in each others lives. Tony had made that clear enough many times.

“Aliens,” Nat said, curling up in the chair. She winced and shifted position. “There was this thing with an alien magical cube thing from Thor’s dimension. His brother came here with it to try to take over the Earth.”

“And, what? You guys just… beat him up? How did the aliens get here?” He watched her expression, knowing the fact that she let him see her expressions was a gift. “How is everyone else?”

She sighed. “Clint was—taken over by Thor’s brother.” At his appalled expression, she nodded. “Yeah, he’s… I don’t know if he’ll be okay about that. But we got him back. Everyone else is okay. Steve was great in the fight, the things he can do with that shield are amazing. I think the Hulk even had fun with things.”

Bucky chuckled, then winced at the way the movement jarred his shoulder. He wasn’t going to think about that—about what it was going to be like to have only one arm—until he was alone. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re not saying.”

She shrugged. “Tony’s alive. You’d know if he were dead.”

“True.” He closed his eyes and saw the way Iron Man’s armor had looked, free-falling from the weird rift in the sky. “I saw him fall.”

Natasha reached out and squeezed his wrist. “Concentrate on healing. You can figure the rest out later.”

He fell asleep with her watching the door.

When he woke up next, he was alone. The room was dark, except for the lights of the machines he was hooked to. He struggled with the blankets, which had been pulled up tightly under his arms, and reached over with his right hand to feel his left side. The bandage was huge, wrapping around his chest and up to his neck, but he could tell there was nothing at all left of his left arm. 

With a whimper, he lay back down and let the tears flow.

***

When Bucky woke up the third time, everything hurt and he was alone. His head felt clearer than it had since before the building had fallen on him and, while part of him regretted the fact that this clarity came with pain, he knew he’d need to be able to think unmuddled by pain medication.

Another nurse came in; he was immediately followed by two doctors and an orbiting fleet of support staff. 

“Ah,” Bucky grated. His throat was dry again. “Morning rounds.”

The nurse glanced at him and offered a cup and straw. “Afternoon, actually,” he said. 

One of the doctors read through the top page of Bucky’s chart, then flipped a few pages down. “How are you doing?” she asked, without lifting her eyes from the papers.

“I’m just peachy,” Bucky said. “I hope I’ll still be able to pitch the baseball game I’m scheduled for.”

She shot him a look, then set the chart down. “Not any time soon, Mr. Jarvis.”

Bucky tried to hide his shudder. _God, I miss Edwin._

The doctor’s eyebrow rose. “Are you certain there is no one we should be contacting?”

“My sister has already been here.” Bucky saw two of the staff discussing something in a fierce whisper next to the door. 

“That’s encouraging. If you think of anyone else, please let us know.” The second doctor pointed at something on the chart and she nodded. “Please lie down; we need to inspect your injury. I assume you know the extent of the amputation deemed necessary.”

Bucky felt the bed moving to a flat position. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t told anything until I woke up here. It—you took all of it?”

At this, both doctors paused and the second one said, his voice deep and rumbly, “There was extensive damage quite high up on your humerus. The arm was partially crushed from just above the elbow down and, given the time we had, there was no way to do anything reconstructive.” He had been unwrapping the bandages as he spoke and Bucky caught a glimpse of raw flesh and large stitches before turning his head away. 

“I am sorry to do this before you have had your current dose of pain medication, but we would like to test for remaining sensation.” The male doctor reached for Bucky’s shoulder with a soft swab moistened with something liquid. The chill as it touched his flesh made him yelp.

The next half hour was misery. When they’d gone, the first nurse stayed in the room to administer his medications. He grimaced at Bucky and said, “That was rough. I’m impressed you didn’t punch out Dr. Satler, myself. I’d have wanted to.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “I thought about it, but couldn’t figure out the geometry of it. I’d have had to roll in that direction, and…” 

The nurse laughed. “Good point. Next time, we’ll get him on your good side.” He finished his tasks and said, “I’ll be back in a quarter hour with something for you to eat. If you need anything, give a holler.” He positioned the bell—on an electric cord—near Bucky’s right hand. “I’m Howard, and I’ll be your night nurse for the week. Try the veal.”

Bucky snorted as Howard left. _What the hell. Does the Universe have no imagination at all?_

As the medication swept the aches and pains away, Bucky looked around his room more closely. He was in a single room, with a small window, two visitor’s chairs, and a private bathroom. _Who’s paying for this room?_

There was a phone on the bedside table, with a hot pink sticky note on it.

 _For my brother,_ it said in Russian. _It’s all programmed and ready for you._

When Howard trotted back in, tray filled with yet more liquid diet, Bucky said, “Hey, could you put my phone on that tray? I can’t reach it.”

The lockscreen was a picture of the sperm whale and giant squid from the Museum of Natural History and Bucky huffed a laugh. Dammit, Nat. After a moment, he tapped in the date he and Tony had got married and the phone unlocked.

Over his dinner, which he managed to feed himself, he read the news. Seeing pictures of New York destroyed was jarring, like seeing images of World War II bombings. The Avengers were being quoted and talked about, and gushed over in every newspaper. Then he saw a photograph of Tony, falling from the rift in the sky, arms and legs outstretched, absolutely unmoving. 

Bucky closed the phone and, shoving aside the rolling table with the remains of his dinner, lay back down. He didn’t think he’d sleep at all, but eventually drifted off.

***

Nat came and went whenever she felt like it; the first time she was there outside of official visiting hours, she showed up in the middle of the night and Bucky woke up to find her sleeping in the two chairs, which she’d shoved together.

She helped him hobble to the bathroom, then sat on the foot of his bed and smiled at him.

“You look like shit,” she said.

“Thanks. I was just about to say the same thing to you.” Bucky shifted against the propped-up bed. “How’re things?”

She shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle. Certainly there’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”

He glowered, but she just looked at him without any expression. “Fine, then,” he said. “If Tony doesn’t know where I am, who’s paying for this room and the surgery?”

She brightened. “Oh, he is. He just doesn’t know it.” She tucked one leg under herself. “I’ve got the payment routed through one of his offshore companies that he doesn’t even remember setting up. It’s the one for medical aid to small non-European nations. I thought it was appropriate.”

Bucky was struck by how much he wished that Aunt Peg could have met Natasha. After their first, no doubt prickly, introduction, they’d have got on like a house on fire. “Tell me how things are.”

She opened her mouth and he snapped, “Dammit, Natasha, don’t lie to me. I’m an adult. I don’t need to be babied.”

“Alright. Tony’s going spare looking for you and I don’t think Steve’s spoken to him in three days.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Bruce spent at least two days asleep, but he’s woken up now, we haven’t heard from Thor after he left with his brother, and I can’t get Clint to sleep in the same room as me.”

“Why hasn’t Steve spoken to Tony?” 

“He didn’t know you were married and soul mates. He takes that very seriously and is furious at Tony.” She rolled her shoulders back. “I think Tony deserves whatever he’s getting, though.”

Bucky smiled down at his hand. “Thanks.” He closed his fingers into a fist, then deliberately flatted it out and pressed his palm against the sheet. “I don’t know when I’m going to be allowed out of here, but I don’t want to—”

“That non-profit can support you for the rest of your life and he’d never notice.”

Bucky winced. “Money isn’t the issue. I’ve got money. I think I’ll be moving to Brooklyn, if it’s not too damaged.”

“It’s fine.”

“Why won’t Clint sleep with you?”

She froze, an implacable look of anger on her face. Her voice, however, was passionless. “He says he can’t trust that he won’t wake up still under Loki’s control.”

Bucky knew this was a bad idea. “The apartment in Brooklyn has three bedrooms. He could come stay with me.” He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his back twinged and he felt his rib muscles catch. “Tell him I need the help.”

“You do,” she replied, but she looked less trapped.

“I do,” he agreed.

Two weeks later, Clint rolled him to the door of the hospital in a wheelchair. 

“Why can’t I just walk?” Bucky whined, half-heartedly.

“What, you don’t trust my driving?” Clint asked.

“Oh shut it.” As soon as they were outside the building, Bucky stood up and turned to Howard. “Thanks for everything. I hope I never have to see you at work again.”

“You’re very welcome,” Howard said. “Let me know how rehab goes.” He spun the chair and left Clint and Bucky standing on the sidewalk. 

“We’re not taking the subway, are we?” Bucky asked.

Clint whistled for a taxi and grinned at Bucky over his shoulder. “You can, if you want. I’m taking this here big yellow taxi.”

As they drove through the city to get to the Brooklyn Bridge, Bucky stared out the window. “I had no idea it was this bad.”

Clint glanced up from his phone. He’d turned so his back was to the window. “It’s worse in some places, but Tony’s working on making something to help with the cleaning.”

“Ah. Of course.” Bucky felt the spot in his chest—what he’d thought of as Tony’s spot when he was a kid—spasm. 

They climbed the stairs and Bucky pointed Clint to the bedroom he’d be staying in, then he went into his own bedroom and fell onto the bed. _I’ll figure out something for dinner later. Tomorrow can fucking wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sperm whale and giant squid](https://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/permanent/ocean-life/sperm-whale-and-giant-squid) Always fun.


	5. Growing Up Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky grows up young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added time markers at the beginnings of the chapters, just to help keep things straight.

**1980**

Bucky woke up the next day, and lay staring at the ceiling. It had been painted to look like a big wide-open sky with clouds scudding around the edges. He wondered what it would be like to live in a place where you could just paint the whole room however you wanted. 

“I guess I live here now,” he muttered. When he rolled over to curl back up, he saw Tony’s bright eyes peeking over the side of his mattress. 

“Well, duh,” Tony said. “I told you that ages ago. Can’t you keep up?” Tony jumped down from the side of the bunk beds and grinned up at Bucky. “Come on. I got another week out of stupid sleep-away school. Wanna take Jarvis and go to the park? We can go see what the zookeepers are doing with the lions.”

Bucky sat up. He was in a tank top and shorts and he squirmed at the knowledge that this meant Jarvis had seen him naked. “You’re not—I’m not going to school either?”

Tony was hopping around in a circle on the floor. “Nope. Father said that since you’ll be going to a new school, you might as well wait another week. If you need to learn anything extra, you can have tutors.” He propped his hands on his hips. “I’d rather just have the tutors. I can go a lot faster if I don’t have to keep waiting for the rest of the class.” He sighed, looking put-upon.

“Anyway,” he continued, “if we hurry up, we can see feeding time for the lions. I’ve seen it before and it’s great.”

That did sound great, actually, so Bucky slid down the ladder and headed for the set of drawers he’d been told was his. While he dressed, Tony chattered about the different animals he’d seen at the NY zoo, and then he started describing the various zoos he’d been to around the world.

“It would be fun to be a veterinarian,” he said as they walked to the breakfast room. “Imagine it. You could go all over the world performing surgery on all the sick elephants and tigers and stuff.”

The trip to the zoo was more fun than Bucky expected. He’d thought they’d get a quick tour around, but they stayed for the whole day. They ate lunch in the Director’s office and Bucky was surprised that he talked to Tony – and to Bucky himself – as if they were adults. 

Bucky spent the rest of the week following Tony around on different adventures in the city. Once, Jarvis asked Tony if he’d let Bucky choose any of their destinations, but since Tony had just suggested that they go to Hayden Planetarium, Bucky just shrugged and said he wanted to go there, too. Jarvis gave him a sharp look, but Tony tugged on Bucky’s arm and asked him if he’d ever gotten to touch the meteorite.

Bucky had expected that dinner the night before Tony went back to school would be just him and Tony, the way it had been all week, but Mr. Stark had arranged a big party. Tony was alternately excited and sullen, but Bucky couldn’t figure out what was wrong. His dad was throwing him a party, what was wrong with that? 

The party itself was kind of dumb. It was just adults talking and drinking. Bucky liked that the food was laid out so anyone could take what they wanted – he remembered when his grandpa had taken him to Chock Full ‘o Nuts once for the buffet, but this was better.

He saw Jarvis, at one point, talking to a pretty lady, but before he could go over to ask who she was, one of the other people, a man Bucky didn’t recognize, snapped his fingers at Jarvis and demanded a drink. Jarvis raised his eyebrows, but did walk away toward the bar. When Bucky looked back, the lady was gone.

Tony tried to convince Bucky that they should steal a bottle of wine and drink it all, but Bucky refused. He wasn’t a lush, like his dad. 

Then, the next morning, Tony was gone. The house felt a lot emptier without him. That afternoon, Jarvis took him to his new school, a large building only a few subway stops away from Tony’s house. He filled in the forms for Bucky, then said he’d be there at 3 to pick him up. Bucky recoiled. 

“Can’t I just take the subway back? I’ve done it before.”

Jarvis looked at him, his face serious. “You must come straight home. No more haring off to other boroughs without permission.” 

“Sure.” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem.”

Jarvis held out a hand. “Shake on it.” After one firm shake, Jarvis nodded. “I’ll expect you by three thirty, then.” He got as far as the door before returning, his hand filled with money. “I forgot. You’re unlikely to have the funds, yet. Here. This should see you through the end of the week. I’m certain Mr Stark will arrange something for you as soon as he can.”

On the third Saturday after Tony had left, Mr. Stark came into the breakfast room and sat down next to Bucky. 

“Hey there, James,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about what we’re going to do with you.”

Bucky froze, spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth.

Mr. Stark glanced at him and chuckled, patting him on the back. “Relax, son, you look like you’re about to get shot. I mean, your teachers say you’re doing well, but you seem distracted. Are you doing okay in classes? Do you need any tutoring, extracurricular activities, science projects?”

Bucky put the spoon down, uneaten. “No, sir.”

“Really, I’d love for you to call me Howard. You’re family.”

Bucky looked at the rice crispies softening in his bowl. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Look kid. I know you know what your father did. I don’t know how to explain it – I wouldn’t have done it myself. But here we are. There’s nothing to do about it but keep going. I can’t fix it and I can’t change it and neither can you.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

“No. Do you want me to look for him?” Mr. Stark shrugged. “He wouldn’t be the only missing person I’m looking for.”

“I want you to look for my sister. I don’t—” Bucky’s whole chest felt tight and horrible. “I don’t care what happens to my dad.”

Mr. Stark’s face did something complicated but he just ended up with a sad expression. “Okay, can do.” He looked around the room. “Are you finished, or are you still hungry? I was thinking of going out to lunch with Maria. She wants to do some shopping.”

Bucky shrugged. The cereal was probably inedible by now. “I guess I’m done. Will you be here for dinner?”

Mr. Stark looked startled. “No, I meant, I thought you could come with us. If you want, of course.”

“Sure. Thanks, that sounds cool.” 

Mr. Stark’s smile made Bucky feel awkward – why would an adult care if Bucky came along on a trip with him and his wife? 

While they wandered up 5th Avenue behind Mrs. Stark, Mr. Stark turned to Bucky. “I was thinking, there’s a way you and Tony could keep in touch. It’s a bit dodgy for me to have you two using it, but I know Tony’d love it.”

Bucky turned away from the homeless man on the corner and peered up at Mr. Stark. “What, like letters?”

“Computer letters.” Mr. Stark grinned, broad and white. “I’ve got a program that’ll let you and Tony send each other letters on a computer.”

“Where’d I get a—oh.” Bucky nodded. “The one in your lab. Is there a computer at his school?” Tony hadn’t told him much about his school. He seemed to think it was just boring and stupid, but it was hard to tell if that was because Tony was easily bored or if the other students really were as dumb as he’d said. Since he’d acted as if Bucky were stupid several times, Bucky wasn’t sure that Tony’s judgement was very good.

“Right in one,” Mr. Stark said. He was watching his wife with a smile on his face. Bucky wondered if they were soul mates or if they were just married. 

“Are you—” Bucky stopped. He didn’t know how to ask; it was a very rude question.

Three days later, Mr. Stark was home when Bucky got home from school. Jarvis met Bucky at the door and brought him to Mr. Stark’s lab. 

“I’ll have a sandwich and something for you to drink when you’ve finished in there,” he said. 

In the lab, Mr. Stark was bent over a microscope, peering at something Bucky couldn’t see. Bucky waited, not wanting to go too far into the room. So far Mr. Stark had been nice, but he didn’t want to know what he’d be like if Bucky broke something important.

“Where is that boy?” Mr Stark said, standing up and looking around. “Ah, there you are. I thought you got out of school at three.”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Still with the sir. Come here, James. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

The thing he’d been looking at was a round dish with something bubbling on it. He saw Bucky looking at it and slipped a glass cover over the top. 

“That’s not it. That’s important, but it’s not for you.” Mr. Stark brought Bucky over to his desk, which was dominated by a large computer terminal.

“I’ve found your sister,” he said, pointing at the information on the screen. “She’s in Indiana, with a family called Dugan. Any relation?”

Bucky stared at the screen. “Indiana? We don’t know anyone in Indiana.”

Mr. Stark sat down and looked grave. “That’s what I needed to know.” He tapped a couple of keys and the printer next to his desk tugged spooling paper through its spindles; the little printer-ball started whizzing back and forth with a whine. “See, I think your father’s given her up for adoption. There’s an adoption request filed in Shelbyville, which is the county seat. If you don’t have family there, then she’s probably been adopted.”

“But she’s my sister!” Bucky felt tears rising again, fueled by sudden, all-encompassing anger. _How dare dad give her up. Mom would never have…_

“Yes,” Mr. Stark said. “So I wanted to ask you. Do you want me to go and get her? I think I could possibly get the adoption stopped and then we could—I don’t know, Maria always wanted more kids, I guess?”

“Yes!!” Bucky felt slightly dizzy.

“The thing is, she’s been there for two months, now. I’ve done some investigating and the family isn’t bad. They have a small farm, with horses and a few cattle. They grow soybeans. I even got some pictures of her.” He laid his hand on a tan envelope Bucky hadn’t noticed on his desk.

Bucky paused. Becca loved animals and the fact that they’d never been able to have any pets had been one of the things she’d always been unhappy about. 

“Could we get a dog?”

Mr. Stark looked sad. “I’m afraid not. Maria is deathly allergic to dogs and cats.” 

Bucky felt his previous elation burst. “What would Becca do here?”

“She’d go to school, like you.” Mr. Stark looked a little baffled. 

Bucky bit his lips together. “Do I have to decide right now?”

“Of course not. There’s loads of time.” Mr. Stark handed him the envelope. “Here. Take a look. I’m headed out this evening, I think I’ll be away for about three weeks. We can talk about it again when I get back.”

Bucky found himself back in the corridor without any idea how he’d gotten there. He walked blindly down the hall to the dining room and sat at the table, staring blankly at the plate, filled with two ham sandwiches and a pile of potato chips. He could see Becca again. He could show her all the things here in Tony’s house and she could go to a good school and be happy.

Bucky opened the envelope and let the pictures spill out onto the table. She looked like she’d gotten taller already. He sorted through them, staring at each one. Here, she perched on top of a horse, so much bigger than her that her legs stuck straight out to the sides. There, she was holding a woman’s hand as they shopped for clothes at a store. There were pictures of her in a classroom, head bent over a puzzle with letters on it, and outside playing at recess. 

Bucky felt something in his heart break as he realized that _she was happy_. Even if she remembered him, she was happy there, with these strangers. He couldn’t give her what they did. He didn’t have anything of his own. He didn’t even have his own room. Everything he had here was given to him—by Tony’s father. 

He stacked the pictures back up, with one of Becca smiling between two adults; the man’s broad smile was nearly hidden under a curly mustache and the woman’s round cheeks had little dimples in the middle. If you didn’t know who Becca really was, you’d never know she wasn’t theirs to begin with.

“You haven’t eaten.” 

Bucky jolted at Jarvis’ statement. “Is Mr. Stark still here? I gotta see him. It’s important.”

“I believe he is dressing for dinner. I will tell him you wish to speak to him.” Jarvis lifted a phone on one of the tables against a wall and spoke into it.

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Bucky stuffed the pictures back in their envelope and slid out of the chair to his feet. He started toward the hallway, then turned around. “Do I gotta call you Jarvis? What’s your name?”

Jarvis turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, it settled on pleased and he said, “Edwin. I would be pleased to have you call me by my christian name.”

“Christian – I wasn’t asking if you were christian.”

Jarvis—Edwin smiled. “No, as it happens, I’m not. However, that’s the word for a person’s first name. Well. One of the words.”

“Oh.” Bucky shifted on his feet. “Edwin. Huh. Can I talk to Mr. Stark?”

Edwin set the phone down. “Please follow me.” He led Bucky down corridors to a room that he and Tony had ignored on their exploratory adventures.

The room was a living room. Mr. Stark turned from where he was reading the newspaper in a wing chair, and Bucky could just hear someone moving in one of the rooms which connected to this one.

“I’ve decided,” Bucky said.

“That’s grand. Shall we get her next month? I can arrange to have a week free then.” Mr. Stark pulled a diary from his inside pocket and opened it, scanning something quickly. “Yes, I can move the meeting with the Chief of—”

“I want her to stay there.” Bucky sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He could.

Mr. Stark set the diary down on his knee. “Ah. I see.” He watched Bucky, then nodded sharply. “That’s not the choice I expected you to make, but I think it might be the wisest one.” 

They were silent and Bucky fought to keep from crying again. He wasn’t a baby. He wouldn’t cry. 

“I—can we check on her sometimes, though?” He hated that he sounded so small.

Mr. Stark nodded. “Of course. That goes without saying.” He slipped his diary back into his pocket and said, “Sometimes it’s hard to be the grown up. You have to make decisions which are hard, and not always what you want for yourself, but which are best for everyone involved.” He sat forward, lacing his fingers together between his knees. “I think you’ve just grown up.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky didn’t feel like a grown up. He felt awful. He wanted to take it back, to insist that they go get Becca right now, this _very instant_ , but the thought of her beaming face as she sat on that horse made him stop.

“I think, since we’re both grown ups, you can call me by my first name.”

“Not your christian one?”

Mr. Stark laughed, big and booming, and Bucky could hear an echoing softer laugh from Edwin, behind him. “You’ve been talking to Jarvis, haven’t you?”

“I have. I don’t understand why you call him Jarvis when you’re both adults and he’s called Edwin.” Bucky’s head hurt.

“He insists on it,” Mr. Stark said. “But really, call me Howard.”

“Okay, Howard,” Bucky said. It felt very strange to call an adult by their first name, but he did feel a little more grown up. 

“Now,” Mrs. Stark said, coming into the room through a door through which Bucky could see a bed. “All we need is for you to call me Maria and we’ll all be best friends.” She smiled down at him. “I think it’s time you changed for dinner, James. This warrants a celebration. It’s not every day a young man grows up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hayden Planetarium](https://www.amnh.org/research/hayden-planetarium) is totally worth visiting. My grandfather took me here many times. Here's the [Meteorite Exhibit](https://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/permanent/meteorites), and we used to hold hands through several of the holes in this [meteorite](https://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/permanent/the-universe/planets/planetary-impacts/the-willamette-meteorite).
> 
> The [Central Park Zoo](https://centralparkzoo.com/) is a pretty good, if small, zoo.
> 
> My grandparents also took me to [Chock Full 'o Nuts](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chock_full_o%27Nuts) diners. I miss the busy, chaotic places.
> 
> There _was_ email in 1980, but it was pretty restricted. I figure Howard Stark probably had it, though, and wouldn't think twice about letting his kid(s) use it.
> 
> In the comics, Bucky's from Shelbyville, Indiana, so that's where I've sent Becca. I'll bet you can guess who's adopted her.


	6. Bucky Makes Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's in a bit of a holding pattern, but at least his friends are getting to know him better.

2012

Bucky hated the physiotherapy sessions. They were grueling, exhausting, and painful, and he wasn’t sure that he was getting the benefits that he was supposed to. Still, he went, every two days for the first month, then every week. 

The office was in Manhattan, so he endured the subway ride in from Brooklyn and, as a treat on the way home, stopped into the coffee shop he’d found while he was still living in Stark Tower for a triple espresso with whipped cream and raspberry syrup. The first time he’d gone with Clint, Clint had teased him mercilessly about his ‘silly froufrou drink’, but Bucky just shrugged and kept sipping. 

“It’s delicious,” he said, when Clint’s humor wound down. “And I don’t see any reason not to have nice things.” The darkness that flashed through Clint’s eyes made Bucky sigh. “Look, Clint—”

“No, I get it.” Clint ran a hand down the back of his head, then rubbed his nose. “Life’s shitty enough right now.” He paused, then looked over at the line to order drinks. “Maybe I should get one, too.”

“Can’t hurt,” Bucky agreed. On his second pass through the line, Bucky got a plain coffee with cream and a large danish. They sat down at a small table near the back to consume their snacks. 

“Ain’tcha worried that Tony’ll find you here?” Clint’s eyes and hands were busy with the paper wrapper on his muffin.

“Nope,” Bucky said. “He likes the coffee at the place over on the west side.” _He never bothered to find out what I liked. Weird how that ends up being a way to stay safe now._

Clint looked baffled. “What I don’t understand is why you’re hiding. He’s your brother. Why don’t you want him to know where you are?”

Bucky stared at him. Slowly, so that he didn’t spill the hot coffee over his now shaking hand, he set the cup down on the table.

“His _brother?_ Is that what he’s telling people?”

Clint’s brows drew together. “He never says anything about you, actually. Thor asked him once if you were a member of the team and he just shrugged it off. Said you were just part of the deal.”

Bucky transferred his glare to the table. There wasn’t any reason for him to be mad at Clint. Clint didn’t know anything about what was going on.

“You’re not his brother, are you?”

Bucky breathed heavily through his nose, then shook his head. “No. And if he’s not saying, then it’s nothing I want to get involved with.” He stood up, folding the crackly paper around the remaining half of his danish. “I’m going home. I’ll see you there?”

Clint stopped his abortive attempt to shove the rest of his muffin into his mouth. “Oh, mnhph.” He swallowed heavily. “Sure. Uh. How long should I wait?”

Bucky pressed his fingers into his eyes. “I don’t care, Clint. You’re an adult. You’ve got your own key.”

The subway ride home was exhausting. An old man stood up to give Bucky his seat, but lowered himself back down at whatever he saw on Bucky’s face. After three stops, a seat opened up across the train and Bucky collapsed into it, letting his head rest against the dirty plastic window. The rocking of the cars as they rumbled through town felt like going home, like the city itself was soothing him from the different hurts he’d had all his life.

“Fuck, Tony,” he whispered. “What the hell is wrong with us?”

The next week, Clint showed up at the kitchen table when Bucky was getting ready to leave for his appointment. 

“I’m sorry about last week,” he said. “I have this disease, uh. Foot in mouth disease. Nat says I got it bad.”

Bucky snorted. “It ain’t your fault. Tony’s just… well. Tony’s himself. I’ve known him since I was twelve and he was ten and he’s never really changed.” He concentrated on stacking his cup and plate and bringing them to the sink. “Are you coming in to the city this week, or do you have something else to do? Nat hasn’t been around much.”

Clint looked mulish for a second, then collapsed back into his seat. “I told her what I asked you and she told me that she wasn’t coming around until I apologized.”

“How’ll she know?”

“She just will. I don’t know how she does it.” Clint sounded mournful, but Bucky heard the pleasure underneath.

“Well, it’s good that one of us is making progress.”

Clint’s head snapped up. “Wait. Wait, are you—” He stared at Bucky, who turned away to hide his face. “Are you Tony’s _soul mate?_ ” Bucky didn’t respond, but Clint just barrelled on. “You _are,_ aren’t you? Holy shit, and you just… wait.” Clint’s silence was suddenly filled with something angry and Bucky pressed his lips together.

“Tony kept trying to sleep with Pepper.” Clint sounded absolutely livid and Bucky felt a wave of fatigue wash through him.

“Clint,” Bucky said, turning to face him. “Drop it. This isn’t important.”

“Not _important?_ ” Clint was snarling and half out of his chair. “What the fuck, Bucky. That’s—” He broke off and stared at Bucky’s face. “You’re okay with this.”

“Not really,” Bucky said, after a long breath. “But I know very well that not all soul mates are really good for each other.”

“But you don’t have to stay with him,” Clint said, looking even more confused than he’d been at first. “There’s that organization _Soul Free_ , I heard about it. It helps people who’re in bad soul mate relationships get out of them.”

“Yes.” Bucky rubbed his left shoulder. “Ah, I know about it.”

“Then why don’t you go there?”

Bucky sat back down at the table. “Clint, where do I work?”

“You started a non-profit working to…” Clint’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Trust me, I know all about how to get out of bad soul mate relationships.” Bucky’s phone chirped and he groaned. “Look, I’m going to be late if I don’t leave. I’ll see you when I get back?”

Clint stood. “No, I’m going with you.”

On the train, crammed into one of the corners by the crowd, Clint turned to Bucky. “Nat knows?”

“She does.” Bucky’s head was pounding. “Could you drop this? It’s not important.”

Clint’s face was stony for a second, then he shrugged. “Sure. Hey, you’ve got that grill in the back. Let’s make giant steaks for dinner. Nat can bring beer.”

Bucky just groaned.

That night Bucky went up to the roof and sat in one of the deck chairs he’d dragged up the summer before. The sky was clear and the stars floated high in the velvet dark. He could feel Tony, in the center of his chest, angry and stressed. 

There was a clatter behind him and Natasha crawled through the window to the roof, followed by Clint. They collapsed onto chairs and sighed. 

“He’s looking for you,” Nat said, her voice soft.

“Yeah, I know.” Bucky rubbed his sternum and Clint looked suddenly enlightened. “He’s angry about something.”

Nat lifted her head and looked at him, brows drawn in. “Angry at— huh. He’s certainly making everyone around him angry.”

Bucky smiled at his right hand, curled gently on his leg. “He’s good at that.”

“My soul mark was removed,” she said. “They took it off when I was little, but I remember what it looked like. I met him once.” 

Next to her, Clint looked carved from marble. 

“He was old—I was fifteen, he was probably only about twenty two or three—and he seemed so soft. So weak.” She rolled her head toward Bucky. “I thought it was a good thing that I didn’t have to be connected to someone like that.” 

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. “Have you looked him up?”

She shrugged. “He died.” The flat way she said it gave Bucky an idea about how the man had died. 

“But in the end,” she continued, her voice gaining warmth and life, “I have learned that a person can make their own soul mates, their own connections.” She let her hand fall to the side and Clint laced his fingers through hers.

Bucky was silent. “Tony always wants to be in control. I think it’s because his father was so big—I don’t mean physically.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with trying to put this into words. “Howard never did anything small, or insignificant. And Tony thought that he had to do better.”

“And so he pretends you’re not his soul mate?” Clint sounded incredulous. 

“No. I don’t know why he’s upset about me specifically. But he doesn’t want to be tied to any one thing or person, I think.” Bucky wished he’d thought to bring beer. “His parents weren’t soul mates, I never found out if she’d married Howard before or after she met her soul mate, but I know they were deeply in love. And Edwin would have done anything for his wife. Did do everything for his wife.” 

Clint stirred. “Edwin?”

“Edwin Jarvis.” Bucky felt tears rise, tears he hadn’t let fall at the man’s funeral, all those years ago. “He was the closest thing I had to a father. I think Tony feels the same way.”

“Jarvis? Like the computer that runs the Tower?” 

“He’d hate that,” Bucky said. “He said that he never wanted to be a disembodied voice, that it was good to live a whole life and then let it go. He wasn’t afraid of death.”

“He—he was a real person?” 

Bucky smiled. “He was the realest person I ever met.”

“Did he know that you and Tony—” Clint broke off and Bucky laughed at the expression on Natasha’s face.

“When I was twelve, I moved in with Tony and his parents. Edwin – Jarvis – was Howard’s butler and personal… I guess they used to call it batman. He was more than just a butler or valet.” Bucky stretched his legs out. “Edwin took care of me. Well, Edwin and the rest of the staff. Then I went to college and we got married and now here we are.”

Bucky saw Clint mouth the word ‘married?’, but he didn’t say anything out loud.

“You have grounds for divorce,” Natasha said mildly.

“Yes.” Bucky felt Tony’s spot spasm. 

“This is all terribly depressing and Russian,” Clint said cheerfully, “but I think we should move on to something more pleasant. They’re saying that the clean-up is finally done and the city is going to start rebuilding soon.”

They discussed the plans the mayor had posted on social media for a while, then Clint and Natasha went back downstairs. Just before she left, Nat turned to Bucky. “You can’t hide forever, you know. Eventually, you have to come out into the light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never quite understood Jarvis' real position in Howard Stark's employment. He's more than a butler and valet, he's not involved with the business or tech at all... so [batman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batman_\(military\)#Fiction) is the only descriptor I've got.


	7. Bucky Is Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts to grow into his adult interests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a passing racial slur used by a non-recurring character.
> 
> The underlined sentences are translated in hover-text.

**1982**

The harsh sound of shouting drew Bucky around a corner at home. To his dismay, one of the staff – a cleaning lady they’d hired a couple of months before – was cowering in front of a big man Bucky’d never seen.

“Hey,” Bucky said loudly, “who’re you and what’re you doing here?” He strode forward, glad that he’d started to grow taller.

The woman flinched as the man swung around to face Bucky. 

“Look, punk, this ain’t any of your fucking business, so go on and get outta here.” The stranger drew his fist back and Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“I think you’re in the wrong house for that,” he said. “Who. Are. You?”

“Oh, he’s just going. He won’t bother you again, Master Barnes. I promise. It’s no trouble. We don’t want any trouble.” The woman—Bucky finally remembered her name: Louise—babbled and wrapped her fingers around the man’s other arm. 

He spun back toward her and the fist which had been primed for Bucky swung out, connecting with Louise’s jaw. Bucky surged forward, screaming at the top of his lungs. For one horrible second, he’d seen his mother falling to the ground, blood pouring from her face.

Before Bucky could get more than a couple of hits in, Edwin came dashing around the corner, followed closely by one of the guys Howard kept as guards. 

“What’s all this?” Edwin asked. He reached out and pulled the stranger off of Bucky without even looking like he was straining. Bucky was impressed; the man was a good fifty pounds heavier than Edwin. Meanwhile, the guard had pulled his sidearm and was holding it generally in the stranger’s direction.

“I gotta right to talk to my soul mate,” the man howled.

“You ain’t got no right to hit her,” Bucky snapped back. “And you ain’t got the right to hit me. And you ain’t fucking got the right to be in this house. Fuck off!!”

Edwin laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll handle this,” he said. He turned to the stranger. “You must be Ms. Shaw’s husband. I’m afraid that by visiting us in this manner, you have made it impossible for us to allow you to continue to have access to the house.” He took the man by his elbow—the guard had handcuffed him while Bucky was staggering to his feet—and turned him toward the front of the house. “Come along. The police will want to have a word or two with you.”

The man, Mr. Shaw, turned and glared over his shoulder at Louise and Bucky. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come home, bitch, and then you’ll get what’s coming to you. And you, kid, if I see you outta here, I’ll—”

The guard yanked on Mr. Shaw’s arm, interrupting him. “Come on, shithead,” the guard said, as they turned the corner, “you can shut up now.”

Louise was standing in the middle of the hall; she was sobbing. Through her tears, she said to Edwin, “Please sir, don’t kick him out. I’ll be okay, it’s just a little thing. He’s just upset ‘cause he ain’t got—hasn’t got a job right now. He’ll be better when the chinks stop their strike.”

Edwin’s face soured, but he patted her on her shoulder. “I’m afraid that we cannot allow people in the house who are not directly connected with the family or staff. I can see that you are experiencing difficulties, and I believe that there might be other ways in which we can help you and your family.” He flashed a glance at Bucky, who couldn’t tell what Edwin wanted him to do. 

“Master Barnes,” Edwin said. “If you wouldn’t mind taking yourself to the kitchen, I’m certain that Chef Levasseur or another of the staff will be able to patch you up. You might ask about the plans for dinner, whilst you are there.”

For a second, Bucky wanted to stay, to ask what Edwin was going to do with Louise, but something about the glint in the adult’s eyes made him just jerk his head in a nod and turn to go.

“Master Barnes?” Louise called after him. Bucky turned. “Thank you for—” She gestured vaguely, then let her hand fall to her side.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said. Several things flashed through his head to say to her – ‘don’t go back to him’, ‘does he hit your kids, too?’, ‘why’d you stay with him?’ - but he just shrugged and headed off to the kitchen.

Chef Levasseur did, in fact, have dinner plans, and one of his assistants was happy to clean Bucky’s face while Levasseur made up a plate of ham and cheeses cut into delicate shapes and piled beautifully on top of tiny crackers.

“Alors,” Levasseur said, placing the snacks in front of Bucky. “Tu es incroyable. Toujours en difficulté. Qu'as-tu fait cette fois?” 

Bucky chewed and swallowed. He had no idea why the chef liked him so much, but he was always trying to get him to eat more. “Uh Je combattre protéger un femme um. From her husband. Her soul mate.”

Everyone’s expression changed, but Levasseur just shrugged. “Ah. You are good boy.” He patted Bucky on the shoulder and called over his shoulder to someone. A large glass filled with soda appeared next to Bucky’s plate. “Soul mate is ‘âme sœur’.” 

Bucky was in the middle of trying to learn the different words for soul mate when Frank, the head of Howard’s security, came into the kitchen and sat down across the table from him. 

“That was a good thing you did, kid,” Frank said, after a moment spent staring at Bucky’s face. 

“Uh. Thanks.” This was the first time Bucky’d seen Frank up close. The man was scary; he was huge, very muscular, and always looked like he knew that you were lying. 

“Do you know how to fight?”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess? I haven’t, like, taken karate lessons or something.”

Frank nodded, lips pursed. “I think you should take some classes. How about I set you up with some of the guys and we’ll teach you anything you want to know.” He grinned, suddenly, and Bucky was struck by how much friendlier he looked. “If you’re gonna hang around the Starks, you’ll need to know how to defend yourself. And sometimes them.” 

Levasseur rattled off something in French – it sounded like a question – to Frank, who shrugged and answered in the same language. They spoke back and forth quickly, then Levasseur threw his hands in the air and stormed off to the freezer.

“You speak French?” Bucky asked.

“Sure, kid,” Frank said, still watching the chef. “Everyone who works for Stark needs to be a polyglot. I’ve got French and Greek, Smyth’s Italian and Portuguese, Levasseur’s French and food—” 

The chef grinned a little sharply and tossed his knife so that it spun and caught the light. He plucked it from the air and pointed it at Frank. “Everything you eat, I cook,” he said. Something about his tone made it sound like a threat, but Frank just laughed.

“And we all have English,” he said.

“I’m afraid that’s where you are incorrect,” Edwin said, entering the room. “While I understand that you colonials are under the impression what you speak is English, you are sorely mistaken.”

“What about me?” Bucky wondered if he was going to be required to learn more languages.

“What you speak is definitely not English,” Edwin said, then he looked more closely at Bucky’s face. “Ah, I misunderstood. As it is, you already have learned the basics of one of the most complicated languages. I have been wondering if we should obtain a private tutor for you, so you can continue your education in it.” At Bucky’s confused expression, Edwin continued. “Russian. You speak Russian.”

Frank looked impressed. “That’s a good one. We haven’t had Russian since McConal left. Where’d you pick it up?”

Bucky shrugged. “When I was living in my old home. Our roommates were Russian and so were a bunch of the other people in the building. It’s nothing special.”

“It’s one of the hardest languages to learn,” Frank said. “Don’t sell yourself short.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll talk to the guys and we’ll set up some lessons. Afternoons work for you?” At Bucky’s nod, Frank gave Edwin a vague salute and sauntered out of the room.

“Has Frank offered you shooting lessons?” Edwin didn’t sound disapproving, but Bucky wasn’t sure that he was being honest.

“He didn’t say anything about guns,” Bucky responded.

“If he’s going to teach you, I’m certain he’ll be including firearms as well as a variety of hand-to-hand techniques.” Edwin eased down onto the same stool Frank had been sitting on. “How does your face feel?”

“My face?” Suddenly Bucky remembered that Louise’s husband had hit him. His hand rose to his cheek, where one of Levasseur’s staff had put a large bandaid. “It’s fine.”

“Good.” Edwin watched the kitchen staff move around the room, then turned back to Bucky. “While I’m glad that you are willing to step in and defend people, I do wish—”

“I ain’t gonna let some schmuck punch his soul mate.”

“No, I see that.” He glanced down at Bucky’s plate. “I wanted to talk to you about what Mrs. Shaw said in the corridor.”

“What, that she’s staying with that son of a bitch?”

Edwin’s brows rose. “There are words which are unacceptable to use for other human beings.”

“Oh, that. I’d never say something like that.” Bucky shoved the last of the ham and cheese stacks into his mouth.

Edwin smiled down at his toes. “Of course you wouldn’t. Hurry up and get your homework done. Ana expects you to be on time for dinner.”

“Brisket?”

“No, kasha varnishkas and sausage.”

Bucky stood up. “I’ll hurry.”

Three months later, Bucky hurried down the hall toward his bedroom. He needed to change clothes so they could go pick Tony up from school. He was finally coming home for the summer and Bucky was looking forward to talking to him in person. Writing letters on the computer was okay, but he wanted to show Tony what he’d learned from Frank and the knife throwing that Levasseur had started to teach him when he’d learned that Smyth had started teaching Bucky about guns.

He pulled his sweaty exercise clothes off the second he got through the door, rushed through a shower, and was tugging his shoes on when Edwin knocked on the door. 

“Are you ready—ah, you are. Excellent. I believe that you two and Mr. and Mrs. Stark will be staying in the house on the cape for the week.”

“Yeah, I packed…” Bucky pointed to his bed. “Wait, I know I left the suitcase there.”

“I’ve put it in the car boot with the other luggage.” Edwin put his hands in his pockets. “James. I don’t think that Mr. Stark wishes for Master Stark to know that you’ve begun firearms training.”

“Why not?” Bucky thought about his last conversation with Howard, but it had been nearly a month before and they hadn’t discussed the stuff he was learning at all. They’d been talking about supernovae and space ships. “I was planning on taking Tony to the range.”

Edwin led the way down the corridor to the elevator. When they were going down to the garage, he sighed. “I believe that Master Stark is still too young to be allowed on the range. He might still be interested in seeing what you’ve learned from the others.”

“I guess.” Bucky collapsed back against the metal wall. “I could show him some of the cool ways to throw a person.”

“Just what we need. Master Stark armed with the ability to sneak around and wrestle people to the ground.”

Bucky grinned. “I know. He’ll love it.”

To his surprise, Tony didn’t seem excited to see him. He hugged his parents, but then sat silently in the back seat of the car instead of telling Bucky about what he’d been doing at school. Finally, Bucky said, “Hey, so I’ve been learning this really cool stuff.”

“I’m sure I don’t care what my father’s teaching you,” Tony said, sounding sullen.

“Your dad’s not the one teaching me. There was this guy, a real shithead, he came in and was being mean to one of the ladies who does the cleaning. Anyway, I hit him back and Frank said I should learn how to hit people better, and I’ve been taking lessons from him and the other security guys.”

“Hit him back?” Tony had turned around and was facing Bucky, his expression now filled with curiosity. 

“Oh, I forgot to say, yeah. He hit his wife, so I tried to beat him up.”

Tony looked amazed. “That’s cool! I mean, not the hitting his wife thing, but your stuff.” He rubbed his nose. “What did you learn? Can you teach me? I bet I’ll be good at it.”

Bucky nodded. “I talked to Edwin and we think that you should learn some of this stuff. It’s, like, how to hold your fist the right way and what to do with your feet when you punch. Stuff like that.”

The rest of the trip was filled with chatter about the different fighting types that Bucky had learned and what Tony wanted to try to learn on his own. Over dinner at a steakhouse, Tony answered questions from his parents about the last few weeks of school. He didn’t sound very excited, but Bucky thought it was probably because he was just distracted by the thought of learning to fight.

That night, Bucky lay in bed listening to Tony ramble on about the things he’d learned in class and the friends he’d made and smiled as he fell asleep.


	8. Rebuilding Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebuilding is the hard part.

2012

Bucky walked down the street toward the building his office was in. Clint had said that most of this neighborhood had survived, but not all of it. Bucky’s building looked like it had split the difference. The bottom three stories were okay, if dusty, but the two top floors were badly damaged. Bucky sighed. 

“Well, shit,” he said. 

“You got that right,” a stranger said. He stood a couple feet away, looking at the building next to Bucky’s. “At least your foundation looks solid.” 

Bucky grimaced. The next-door building was in much worse condition: it seemed as if something heavy and large had slammed into the second floor. 

“That looks bad,” he said. “You the owner?”

The stranger nodded. “Yeah. I wonder if those loans Stark is offering will cover something like this.” 

Bucky flinched. “Loans?”

“Yeah. Stark gave a big speech a couple days ago. He’s setting up a fund to cover loans for New Yorkers who’ve got stuff damaged by the aliens. Must be nice to have that kind of money.” He looked bitter for a second, then his face cleared. “On the other hand, if he didn’t, I’d have to sell and that would suck.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “I’ll have to figure out some sort of apartments or something.”

“You don’t live here?” 

The guy turned to face Bucky, expression startled. “No! No, I live over in Queens. I got a bunch of tenants, though, and I’d hate for them to be on the street while I get this place fixed up.” He shrugged. “It ain’t their fault this happened.”

Bucky stuck his hand out. “I’m James Barnes. Nice to meet you.”

“Chintan Ghoshal. You, too.” Ghoshal went back to staring at his building, then ran his hand through his hair. “Well, this isn’t getting anything done. I’m supposed to see if I can get my tenants in to collect anything that survived, but I’m not sure it’s safe. The inspectors are backed up, as well.”

Bucky snorted. “That’s not surprising. Look at the place.”

Ghoshal turned to him. “Nothing I can do right now. You own yours?”

“Yup. I don’t think I’ll be letting anyone in any time soon. I was hoping I could get back to work, but it looks like I’ll have to find a second office or something.”

“What do you do?” Ghoshal looked at the building, but Bucky had been careful to keep any sign of what his business did off the facade. “I’d thought it was all offices.”

“I run a charity organization helping people with personal relationships and housing difficulties.”

Ghoshal stiffened for a second, then Bucky saw his hands close into fists in his pockets. “I hate people like that.”

Bucky raised his brows and turned square on to the man. “Yes?” He tried to keep his tone pleasant, but knew it wasn’t working.

Ghoshal looked startled at the tension in Bucky’s voice. “Oh! No, I mean. Abusers. My auntie got acid thrown on her when she was about fifteen. Her mother-in-law thought she wasn’t doing the chores fast enough, and then when auntie complained to my grandparents, the bitch said she was cheating on her husband. So then his friends followed her and…” His eyes were narrow and his whole body was stiff.

“Ah.” Bucky relaxed. “Yeah, we’re working to get people who’re stuck in dangerous situations out of them.”

“You need any help?”

Bucky glanced up at the building – all his work was up there on the top floor – and chuckled. “Do you know a good inspector?”

After trading business cards with Ghoshal, Bucky wandered down the street to the coffee shop on the corner. Debris was piled up outside the doors and two of the windows were boarded over, but they were doing a brisk trade in iced drinks and pastries. 

“Hey, Bucky!” Anita, the afternoon barista, beamed at him. “We were all worried about you. No one’s seen you since the attack.” Then her gaze fell to his empty left sleeve and she froze. “Oh god, oh…” 

At her first cry, the other two baristas turned to greet him and watching their faces flood with pity nearly made Bucky turn and walk out again. Then one of them, Doug, came out from behind the counter, limping heavily and Bucky saw that he was in a huge cast. 

“Oh shit,” he said. “We didn’t know. Are you okay?” As soon as he said that, he smacked himself in the forehead; a chorus of “What the fuck kind of question is that?” came from behind the bar.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s done. I mean, it sucks, but—” 

“I’m in this for another week,” Doug said, gesturing down to his leg. “They said that I’ve lost about half the foot, but that I should be able to walk again. I’ll probably need a brace for the rest of my life.”

“I’m glad you made it,” Bucky said. 

“I’ve got your latte,” Anita said, standing behind Doug. Bucky reached for his wallet, but she shook her head. “No, any regular gets their first drink back for free.” She smiled, tremulously. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks.” Bucky took a sip through the hole in the plastic lid and smiled. “You still make the best raspberry latte in town.”

“Damn straight,” she said. Her face was still contracted into sorrow, but she heaved in a breath. “Do you need anything?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, thanks. I’m good. I’m going to see about getting my building inspected and then I’ll have to find a contractor to fix whatever the damage is.” 

Anita stepped closer and dropped her voice. “Have you heard from any of the, uh. Your clients?”

“Yeah,” he said, just as softly. “A couple. I was hoping to get into the office to see if there were messages from anyone else, but…” He shrugged. 

“Well, don’t go climbing up there yourself,” she said sharply, and he grinned at her. 

“Would I do something like that?”

That evening, Bucky sat at the computer in his home office and pecked at his keyboard. Typing one-handed was excruciatingly frustrating, but it was necessary. These people were depending on him and his organization – possibly more now than ever – and he couldn’t leave them hanging. When he’d sent emails to everyone he had contact information for, he slumped back and rubbed his eyes. 

When he left his office, he heard noise in the kitchen and he stumbled downstairs to find Clint fighting with a bag full of Chinese food.

“Hey,” Clint said. “You’re awake. I thought you were sleeping.”

“No.” Bucky yawned hugely and rolled his eyes at Clint’s disbelieving expression. “No, really. I was working. I just—” He stared down at his hand. “I’m going to have to find a different way to type, because this fucking sucks.”

“There’s software that you can talk to,” Clint said. He pulled the last of the paper containers from the bag and tossed a pair of chopsticks onto the counter in front of Bucky. “Or, maybe they make one-handed keyboards. You can’t be the only one-handed guy who needs to send email.”

The next week, Bucky stood in his office, staring out of the hole that had been knocked through the wall. Luckily, most of the debris seemed to have fallen outside the building, so all that was left was cleaning and rebuilding the interior. Ghoshal had found an inspector willing to check both of their buildings at the same time; Bucky had no idea how he’d gotten the guy to do the work this fast, but he wasn’t looking a gift inspection in the mouth.

The electricity was even running, although they weren’t allowed to use the elevators yet. Bucky’s phone chimed with an alert, so he picked up the cement-dust covered remote for the office tv and turned it on. After a second of static, a picture of the Avengers standing in front of Avengers Tower formed.

Tony stood in the center, in his Iron Man suit with the faceplate retracted. Steve stood on his right, his uniform crisp and bright. His mask was down, covering his face, but his mouth looked angry. Thor was missing from the group, but Bucky saw Natasha standing on the other side of Steve while Bruce and Clint stood to Tony’s left. 

“And here we are at the center of the turmoil of the terrifying alien attack on New York City,” gushed the announcer, her voice high-pitched and breathy. “Tony Stark—Iron Man, that is—has called this news conference with exciting news.”

There was a burst of sound as the transmission shifted to the cameras at the actual Tower. Tony turned to say something over his right shoulder to Steve, his mouth quirked in a smile, but Steve just crossed his arms and didn’t respond. His face – what Bucky could see of it – looked even less amused.

“Good afternoon.” Tony’s voice came clearly over the crowd to the camera, and to Bucky. Something in Bucky’s chest unclenched at hearing Tony speak and he collapsed into a chair, sending up a cloud of dust.

“It’s good to be here and to see so many of you here as well,” Tony continued. “It’s hard to keep New York down. We’re fighters.” He waited as the cheering started, then held up a hand to ask for silence. 

“Things are hard right now, but I’m here to help.” Steve shifted beside him and he grinned, quickly. “We’re all here to help. I’ve set up a loan program for New Yorkers who need financial help with rebuilding. Information about that is on my website, please go look it up. The loans are long-term and no-interest.”

“Also, we’re looking to help find ways to rebuild things which aren’t just physical. I’m personally funding several mental health organizations, which will be available to any and all who find that they’re experiencing trauma related to the attacks.” He shrugged. “I know I haven’t been sleeping like a baby.”

Bucky let his head fall back against the chair’s headrest. It didn’t matter what Tony was saying – he could be reading an Indian food take-out menu. Bucky knew that he was still angry at Tony, but right now, hearing his voice for the first time in a couple of months, nothing mattered except the fact that he was still alive. Even if he never talked to Bucky again, it would be okay. He’d never really felt the same as Bucky had anyway, so it wasn’t important if he didn’t look hard enough to find Bucky. 

Bucky heard an echo of Edwin’s voice say, “Don’t sell yourself short, James.” He huffed a laugh, then started listening again.

“… things which we’ll need, as a city, and as a nation, to rebuild from this difficult time.” Steve was speaking now, saying something patriotic and inspiring, as always. Steve used to laugh at Tony when he’d complained about how Steve was so good at sounding heroic. He’d just say it was all the USO training. 

Tony stepped closer to Clint and said something the mic didn’t catch, but, to Bucky’s surprise, Clint didn’t respond at all. For a second, an expression Bucky couldn’t read flashed over Tony’s face, but then it submerged under his ‘media face’. Next to him, Clint looked even more mulish than he usually did at press events.

Just as Tony was about to step forward to say something more, Pepper stepped out of the shadows behind the group and leaned close to Tony’s ear to whisper something. His face flared with hope for a second and he swung around to face her. She nodded and said something else, then handed him a small card.

“It’s been great guys,” Tony said, interrupting Steve’s last few lines and ignoring the baleful look he shot him. “But I’ve just got some good news and I’m going to jump on it. Check my site and I’ll have one set up for the Avengers as a whole as well, before you know it.”

He tapped the button to lower his faceplate and took off into the air, leaving the rest of the Avengers standing on the ground. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Tony,” Bucky said to the empty office. “You couldn’t have waited until it wasn’t rude to leave?” He turned the TV off and finished gathering the things he needed to get work done at home. Getting down the stairs with three large bags stuffed full of files and hard drives was a bit complicated, but he finally made it down to the street. 

Getting to the subway entrance was frustrating; there was a big crowd of people standing around and staring up at something, but Bucky just pressed forward and dove into the welcoming dark of the station. Whatever they were looking at wasn’t any of his business, anyway.


	9. It's Hard to be a Teenager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to talk to Tony about interpersonal relationships.

1984

“I hope dinner’s something cold,” Tony said, fanning himself. “It’s too hot to live.” He collapsed back onto his bed and spread his arms and legs out like a starfish.

Bucky laughed. “It’ll probably be gazpacho and sandwiches again. Néo says that he hates working in New York in the summer.”

Tony rolled over to face Bucky. “Why do you call him by his first name?”

Bucky sat up from where he’d lain down in the stream of cool air from the air conditioner. “Who, Néo? Because he told me to. And because he’s a person, not a…” He paused, not sure how to say what he was thinking. “He’s not a servant.”

“But he’s an employee,” Tony said, falling backwards again. 

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “So? What’s that got to do with it?”

“Nothing, I guess.” The room was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner. “But, how do you even know their first names?”

Bucky stood up and went to his closet to change clothes. “I asked.” He pulled his tee shirt on and turned his back to Tony to pull on shorts. “We should go practice the moves that Frank and Ethan showed us yesterday.”

“I don’t want to,” Tony moaned. “I’m hot.”

Bucky stood over Tony and poked him in the ribs. “Come on. I bet I can pin you three times in five.”

Tony sat up. “You can not. I’ll pin you.”

After a pitched battle downstairs in the gym, they dragged themselves back to their bedroom to shower before dinner. Bucky finished first and, telling Tony that he’d wait for him in the dining room, wandered down the corridor.

In the dining room, he slumped down in his chair, resting his forehead on the table. 

“I see you and Master Stark have been working out,” Edwin said from the staff entrance.

“Edwin,” Bucky said, rolling his head to the side, “why don’t the Starks call you and the rest of the people here by your names?”

Edwin’s brows rose. “They do.”

Bucky sat up, irritated. “You know what I mean. Why doesn’t Tony call you Edwin? Or Frank Frank? I don’t get it. He acts like you guys are beneath him.” 

Edwin leaned against the table and looked at Bucky for long enough to make Bucky uncomfortable. “I believe,” he said, when Bucky started to squirm in his chair, “that you are asking something which I can’t answer.” There was a sound from the door and they turned to see Tony just coming into the dining room.

“Oh, Jarvis,” he said. “You can tell the kitchen that we’re ready for dinner now.” He tugged out the chair across from Bucky and sat down. His usual chair was the one next to Bucky, so there wasn’t a place set for him across the table. “And I’ll be eating here from now on.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Off the tablecloth, like a kid?”

Tony looked startled. “No, Jarvis’ll bring me my stuff.”

Edwin, who had moved to stand against the wall, started to step forward, but Bucky said, “No. No he won’t. You just turned fourteen years old and you can get your own stuff. You aren’t a baby and you aren’t a cripple. You don’t have to boss everyone around.”

Tony looked mutinous for a second, then he slid off the chair and came around to his old seat, where he shoved the setting across the table. “I’m only doing this because you’re my soul mate,” he said.

Bucky opened his mouth to say what he thought, but he caught a glimpse of Edwin’s distressed expression and stopped. After a deep breath, he said, “Tony. You should be doing this stuff because it’s the right thing. You can’t keep treating everyone around you like you own them.”

“Fine, whatever.” 

Dinner was cold corn chowder with lobster chunks and a large mixed vegetable salad. When they’d finished, Edwin brought out dishes of ice cream.

“Hey, thanks!” Bucky took a large bite and sighed. “Peppermint, my favorite.”

Tony stuck his spoon into his own serving, then paused and stared across the table. “But how come it’s okay to let them do things for you, then. If they’re people.”

Bucky set his spoon down carefully. “Just because their jobs are here, doing things for us—for you—doesn’t mean they don’t deserve respect. They’ve got hard jobs and they work hard at them.” He gestured at his bowl of ice cream. “Making food—making food we all like is Néo’s job, and he’s good at it. He was head chef at Lutèce and now he works here. He makes food like your dad makes science.”

Tony licked his spoon. “I guess. I just don’t see why I need to talk to them.”

Bucky sighed and went back to his dessert. “I’m not saying you have to talk to them. I’m saying you shouldn’t treat them like they’re furniture or slaves or something.”

“Huh.” They were silent until they’d finished eating. Then, as they stood up, Tony turned to Edwin. “Tell Levasseur that dinner was delicious. Thank you.” He shot a triumphant glance at Bucky and strode from the room, a miniature copy of his father.

Bucky rubbed his eyes. “Was I that much of a jerk when I was fourteen?”

Edwin chuckled. “No. You have your own issues, but arrogance was never one of them.”

“When’s Howard coming back from California?”

“He is due to return on Monday. I believe that he and Madame Stark have plans to take you all to Europe over the rest of the summer.” 

“Really? Will we be going to France? I hope I can talk it well enough. Tony’ll be excited to see Paris.”

“It’s intended to be a surprise, so please don’t tell Master Stark. I am certain, though, that your language skills are more than adequate.”

“Cool!” 

The next evening, Bucky and Tony ended up in the media room, sprawled out on the small couches in front of the gigantic screen dominating one wall of the room. The other walls were dark green velvet drapes. Bucky had gotten large buckets of popcorn with butter and, for himself, garlic powder, and he grinned over at Tony.

“You’ll like this one,” he said. “It’s so stupid. _Flash Gordon_ is great.”

“That’s what you said about _The Fly_.” Tony wiggled until he was comfortable and shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Well, get on with it. I can’t wait to see how terrible this one is.”

Bucky snorted. “You loved _The Fly_. I saw you watching the spiders in the park.”

“I’m just looking to make sure they haven’t kidnapped any scientists lately.” Tony’s lofty tones were distorted by the popcorn in his mouth, but he grinned as soon as he swallowed.

Bucky pressed play on the laserdisc machine and dove over the back of his own couch. The music filled the room and he glanced over at Tony, who, for all that he always said he wasn’t interested in the stupid movies Bucky picked, was staring eagerly at the screen. 

They weren’t ten minutes into the movie before both of them were laughing at the characters. Some time later, Tony finished his popcorn and came over to Bucky’s couch to steal his bucket. He stuck his feet under Bucky’s thigh and Bucky tried to ignore the way his body reacted. Tony didn’t touch him much and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

He felt his body both soften and harden, in an extremely confusing way. All he wanted to do was pull Tony close, tuck him into his arms and just hold him, but that warm desire was underpinned by a much fiercer desire to kiss Tony and touch him everywhere. 

Tony mumbled, “I can’t see from here,” and turned around, shoving Bucky’s legs apart so he could sit in between them. He shifted around, all awkward shoulders and pointy elbows and then curled so his head leaned against Bucky’s chest and his right arm was tucked down between the couch and Bucky’s back. His right hand drifted down a bit and Bucky clenched his jaw as Tony’s fingers slid just under the waistband of his jeans.

“Are you still hungry?” Tony asked. He tipped his head back; his cheek and lips feathered against Bucky’s neck. 

“Uh,” Bucky could barely breathe. “I… you’ve got the popcorn.”

“I could feed you,” Tony said. He held up a corn kernel and felt around Bucky’s face with it. “Here. Have some.”

Bucky snorted but opened his mouth. “Thanks,” he said. On the screen, the hawkmen flew onto the bad guy’s ship and started dying en masse. 

“This is really dumb,” Tony said, holding another few corn kernels up to Bucky’s face. He didn’t look away from the screen, so he poked them into Bucky’s cheek first, then when Bucky laughed, he moved his hand. Bucky leaned forward to take the food, but his lips closed around Tony’s fingers. 

An electric jolt thrilled down Bucky’s spine and he froze. His dick was harder than it had ever been and he hoped Tony couldn’t feel it through his pants. Tony was sitting with his hip against Bucky’s crotch, so maybe it was okay. 

Tony made a little noise, like a squeak, and Bucky realized that he was still holding Tony’s fingers in his mouth. He pulled back and said, “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted. Do you think they’re going to make it to the wedding in time?”

“The what?” Tony sounded odd, like he was wheezing a bit. 

“The wedding. They’re supposed to be saving Dale from marrying Ming of Mongo.”

Tony snorted. “Mongo _straight_.”

“Oh, we should watch that next!” 

Tony sat up and Bucky shivered. He knew that how he felt was just because they were soul mates; it wasn’t okay for him to want to do anything with a fourteen year old kid. But god, having Tony touch him at all made him want so much more. He shifted back a little, wincing at the way this made his jeans pinch his dick. 

“Uh.” He stood up. “I gotta go pee. I’ll be right back.” Bucky hurried to the bathroom in the back of the room and shut the door. After a second, he locked it and, gritting his teeth and desperately thinking of nothing at all, pulled his throbbing dick out. He stood over the toilet and, eyes clenched closed, stroked himself; it only took a couple of seconds before he was shuddering and twitching through an orgasm. 

He sagged forward, breathing deeply. Fuck, this was stupid. As he washed his hands and cleaned up, he wondered if this was why people generally met their soul mates when they were already older. 

On Monday, he and Tony were woken up by Howard. “Come on, kids,” he said brightly after shaking both of them awake. “I’ve got a big surprise for you and I’m sure you’ll love it.” He grinned broadly at them. “Hurry up to breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

In the dining room, Howard raised his eyebrows when Tony sat across from Bucky, but shrugged and leaned forward. “How would you boys like to spend the summer in Europe?”

“With you?” Tony’s eyes were bright; Bucky could see how tightly he was holding his fork. 

“I’ll be there some of the time, sure. Your mom’ll be there all summer, and we thought it would be a good time for you. You can practice your French and German, and go to the beach in southern France a lot.”

“Where’ll you be?” Tony looked less enthusiastic, but not unhappy. He cut his pancakes into several large bites and shoved one into his mouth.

“I’ll be in and out. I’ve got some business in England and then I want to spend a week or so in the arctic.”

At that, Tony’s face darkened. Before he could say anything, Bucky said, “Could we go to England as well? I’d love to see London.”

Howard turned to him, smiling broadly. “That could be arranged. What do you want to see?”

“We could go to the Tower and see where they cut everyone’s head off,” Tony said, sounding cheerful. 

“And the British Museum sounds cool,” Bucky added. 

“Could we meet the Queen?” Tony asked.

“I think your Aunt Peg worked with her, but I’m not sure they stayed in touch,” Howard said.

“Ohh, I wanna see Aunt Peg,” Tony responded. He turned to Bucky. “I don’t know why you haven’t met her yet, but she’s great. She was in the war and she killed lots of Germans and Nazis.” He ate the last bite of pancake and drained his milk. “And she and Father worked together on catching the Red Skull.”

“She worked more with Captain America than I on that,” Howard said, cutting his own souffle pancake and taking a bite. “She was the one who found out where that shi—jerk was hiding. I did fly him there, though.”

Tony leaned his chin on his hand. “Will she be in England? Bucky should meet her. He’s part of the family now.”

“That he is,” Howard said. “I’ll call her and see what her summer plans are. I’m sure she could use a vacation. And your mother would be delighted to see her again.” He turned to Edwin. “Jarvis, remind me to call Peg, okay?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you call him by his real name?”

Bucky covered his eyes with a hand. “Tony, I didn’t mean for you to tell everyone else what to do—”

“No, now I want to know. I don’t see why I have to call them by their names when Father doesn’t.”

Edwin stepped forward. “As it happens, I asked James to call me by my christian name. It is perfectly acceptable to me for you, and your parents, to continue to address me by my surname. However, if a person does ask that you use another name for them, it behooves you to do so.” 

Tony turned to Bucky. “See? I told you it was okay.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. “It’s not about their names, okay? It’s… well, it about the way you do it, not just the name you use. Edwin is a person, he doesn’t have to do everything you tell him to. Néo is an employee, but he gets to choose who he works for and if you’re a jerk, he won’t want to work for you.”

Howard looked enlightened. “Ah, I see.” He turned to face Tony, looking very serious. “Our staff are all excellent people, the very best at what they do. I hired them because they’re the best, and because I want to make sure that they stay that way. It’s important to treat those around you with respect. You know how you hated it when your teachers thought you couldn’t do quantum physics because you were twelve? Well, that’s how it feels when you treat the staff like they’re unimportant.”

Tony looked thoughtful. “I guess. But I’m still not calling Levasseur by his first name.”

“Fine,” Bucky sighed. “No one said you had to.”

“Excellent,” Howard said. “Now, let’s start packing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lutèce](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lut%C3%A8ce_\(restaurant\)), apparently the best restaurant in the country.
> 
> [Flash Gordon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flash_Gordon_\(film\)), truly a masterpiece of silly film.
> 
> [Blazing Saddles](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fly_\(1958_film\)>The%20Fly</a>%20was%20creepy%20for%20its%20time.%20It's%20really%20interesting%20to%20compare%20it%20to%20the%20remake;%20it's%20possible%20to%20see%20how%20different%20time%20periods%20saw%20what%20makes%20a%20person%20themselves%20changed.%20%0A%0A<a%20href=), where you'll find all sorts of fun and quotable lines. ('Mongo straight' indeed.)
> 
> And I thought about having them watch [Ghostbusters](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghostbusters), but it didn't come out until about a month after this chapter is set.


	10. Unexpected Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You never know who's going to ring your doorbell in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! I thought I'd posted this, but I sent it to drafts, so it's been sitting there since yesterday afternoon! I hope you guys like the chapter.

2012

“So you got this paperwork in the mail? I wonder if I’ll get some.” Bucky flipped through the stack of papers that Ghoshal had dropped on the café table in front of him. 

_** Grant Application For Green Energy Rebuilding Project ** _

“I don’t know,” Ghoshal said. He slumped down in his chair and ran a hand over his eyes. “But I made a copy for you and I think we should fill them out together. The deadline is in a week.”

They sat at a window table of a local sandwich and soup café for the next hour and a half, grinding through the questions in the form. Finally, Bucky dropped his pen and shoved his fingers and thumb into his eyes. 

“I hate government forms,” he groaned. “Every single question is hateful.”

Ghoshal smirked at him. “Just be grateful you never had to fill out immigration papers.”

Bucky snorted. “Good point.” He flexed his fingers and picked the pen back up. “This would be easier if I could use both hands, though.”

Someone at a table behind Bucky dropped their utensils and Bucky flinched at the sharp sounds of the metal bouncing on the tile floor. He glanced over, but whoever it was had bent over to pick them up. He was wiry, like Tony, and for a second, Bucky’s heart leapt at the thought that Tony was here. Then he pressed his eyelids closed and turned back to the last two pages of the form. _Tony isn’t here. Tony isn’t coming for you. And that’s how you want it._

“I was talking to the guy who owns the two buildings on the other side of you,” Ghoshal said, after they’d stuffed their forms into large envelopes. “He’s a real scumlord, isn’t he? His buildings are all apartments and none of the tenants can get in. He was saying that this is a chance for him to get them all out to get out from rent-control.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Which one?”

“Tall, ugly, racist.” Ghoshal shrugged.

“Hang on.” Bucky tapped at his phone. “Sure. I’ve met him. He’s a real asshole. Uh. His name is Randolph Poole.” He leaned forward and peered through the window. “And his buildings are pretty damaged. I’ll bet he won’t be able to get them fixed for anything under ten million each. I wonder what he’d sell for.”

Ghoshal followed Bucky’s gaze to the buildings in question, then leaned back in his chair. “We could split them?”

Bucky turned to see a sly smile on the other man’s face. “Anything to get rid of a racist slumlord. What’ll we do with the tenants?”

Ghoshal shrugged. “I’ve got a half-empty building in Queens. If any of them want to move there, I’d be happy to give them a break on rent until we can get these buildings fixed.”

Bucky held his hand out. “It’s a deal. Call me Bucky?”

Ghoshal shook his hand firmly, a broad smile on his face. “I’m Chiki.”

The subway on the way home rocked back and forth and Bucky leaned his head against the window of the train. He was exhausted and knew that if he didn’t do the exercises that evening his physiotherapist had given him, he’d be even more uncomfortable tomorrow. At his stop, he stood and swung his messenger bag over his shoulders. As he stepped through the doors, he caught a glimpse of a face that looked just like Tony. Before he could look twice, the doors closed and the train moved off.

“For fuck’s sake,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth. “Tony’s never even been on the subway. He doesn’t know where you live and there’s no goddamn reason for him to be following you. Get _over_ this.” 

That Saturday, Bucky woke up slowly. He’d slept well for the first time in months and he yawned hugely as he stumbled from the bedroom to the shower. After he was clean and dressed in soft knit pants and a tee shirt with a faded _Metallica_ emblem on the front, he stood in the kitchen and watched the coffee maker burble to itself.

“I think it’s time to make some changes around here,” he said out loud. “For one thing, there’s no reason to keep fighting with the damned soap. Liquid soap pumps exist.” He snorted at talking to himself and settled into making breakfast to go with his pot of coffee. 

As he was rinsing the plate and shoving it into the dish washer, the doorbell rang. His head came up and he felt a rush of anxiety. No one should be ringing his bell. The only people who knew where he was already had their own key.

He glanced at the screen for the security camera he’d installed when he’d had the building renovated, just after Howard had died, but he didn’t recognize the tallish, dark-haired woman standing at the door. She was definitely looking at his door, though, not the one for his downstairs tenant, so he pressed the button to talk to her.

“Yes?”

“Hi, um.” Her voice was light and sounded anxious. “I’m looking for—I don’t know if anyone here would still know him, but I’m looking for James Barnes?”

Bucky looked again at the screen. Still just a stranger.

“Who?” He tried to keep his voice neutral and flat.

“He, well. We lived here—I think it was here, it was a long time ago. I was really little…” She drifted to a stop and looked up and down the street. “I’m pretty sure it was this building. It looks right. I mean, things have changed, but—”

A wash of cold rushed over Bucky followed immediately by a tingling feeling so sharp he gasped. “Becca?”

The woman’s head snapped around to face the microphone. “Yes? YES! Oh my god, do you know where he’s gone? He’s my brother and I—” 

Bucky pressed the buzzer to open the door, flung open the door to his apartment and started to barrel down the stairs. She met him about halfway up, then froze, her eyes going wide as they moved from his face to his missing arm and back to his face.

“Bucky?” Her voice was small and scared and she sounded just like she had when he’d seen her last.

“Oh god, Becca. How did you get here?” He reached for her and she fell into his arm, wrapping her own around his chest so tightly he thought he’d never breathe again. He didn’t care, his sister was back.

“I flew?” she said to his chest, and he laughed wetly. 

“Becca. Come in, please.” He stroked a hand over her hair and stepped to the side so she could pass him on the stairs.

“Do you still live here?” She stopped at the door and looked around, confusion on her face. “I thought there were other apartments on this floor?”

“I took the whole floor when I had the place renovated,” he said. “Really, come in. Do you want anything? Coffee? Breakfast? How did you—when did you get here? Why did you come?”

She sank into one of the chairs at the dining table. “I got here two days ago. It’s taken me a couple of days to get my bearings again. I, um. I didn’t come by myself, though.” 

Bucky looked at the security camera screen, but no one else was on his stoop. “Why aren’t they with you? Who did you bring? God, Becca, I can’t believe it’s you.” His hand was automatically making another pot of coffee. “I can get bialy from down the street, we could have food. Are you hungry? Where are you staying?”

She laughed and wiped her cheeks. “Bucky. Bucky I missed you so much. I was nearly convinced you were imaginary.”

“Never.” 

She laced her fingers tightly together. “My family’s here.” At his flinch, she leaned forward and held his hand. “My husband and our two kids, I mean. My mom and dad—” Her face crumpled slightly. “I remember our father, but not well, and I don’t remember our mother at all. I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath. “It’s okay, kiddo. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Now, where are these people, or did you leave them at your hotel?”

She looked down at her hands on the table. “I left them in the coffee shop on the corner. That’s new, isn’t it?”

“Would they like to come up?” 

While she called them, he looked around his apartment. It was mostly clean, but he pulled his bedroom door closed to hide the few day’s laundry piled in the corner of the room. 

Becca’s husband was a little taller than her, with light brown hair and eyes. He seemed uncomfortable as he climbed the stairs to the apartment, but he held his hand out as soon as he got to the landing. 

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Mr. Becca. Uh. Ryan.” He hitched the little girl he was holding higher on his hip. “Nice to meetcha.” A little boy, a few years older than the girl, stood quietly behind his father.

“James,” Bucky said. “Please. Come in. Are you hungry?” He couldn’t stop looking at Becca.

“Momma,” the little girl said, holding her hands out. Becca took her and kissed her cheek.

“Bucky, this is Anna, and that’s Jimmy, hiding behind Ryan.” Becca sounded overwhelmed and Bucky thought he knew what she was feeling.

“Jimmy?” He turned from where he’d been about to offer his hand to the boy to shake and stared at Becca.

Her lips tightened. “Yes. My parents were never sure if I was telling the truth about having a brother or if I’d dreamed you up.”

Bucky felt a surge of old fury at his father rise. He closed his eyes and let it wash through him. “You were very little.”

Ryan, who’d been talking quietly to Jimmy, turned and said, “Jimmy, this is Momma’s older brother, the man you’re named after.”

Jimmy looked up at Bucky. “Hello sir. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck a hand out and lifted his chin slightly, though his expression was tight.

Bucky shook Jimmy’s hand gravely. “It’s very good to meet you. I’m your Uncle Bucky. Uh.” He ran a hand down the back of his head. “Have you guys eaten?”

Ryan said, “Oh, no we’re fine.” just as Jimmy said, “We had a snack, but we haven’t had real breakfast yet.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, kid. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“How do you cook with only one arm?” 

“ _JIMMY!!_ ” Becca cried. “Jimmy, apologize right now.”

“What’d I—”

“It’s okay, Becca,” Bucky said, for the first time, not feeling awkward about his arm. “It’s a good question. Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me and you can help?” 

Jimmy looked trapped, but followed Bucky into the kitchen. Becca and Ryan sat down at the table, with Anna on Becca’s lap. Bucky looked over the counter into the living area and said, “So, I’ve got eggs and bacon and, I think I’ve got some bagels. And um. Leftover spaghetti.”

“That sounds great,” Becca said. 

Ryan said, “How long have you lived here?”

Bucky, who’d pointed the fridge out to Jimmy, shrugged. “I lived in Manhattan for years, until I finished college. I bought this place as soon as I could, though.”

“I thought—well, Becca’s memories make it sound like you guys grew up kinda poor.” Ryan looked very awkward, but Bucky could tell that he was asking for Becca.

Bucky nodded, watching the butter melt in the pan. “She’s right. My dad—well. Let’s just say that my luck improved.”

“Oh! Were you a lucky charm as well?” Becca looked delighted.

“A what?” Bucky was sure that ‘lucky charm’ was not something that any of the Starks had ever thought about him.

“My mom and dad always said that I was their lucky charm.” She pulled paper and crayons out of the bag that Ryan had been carrying and set them in front of Anna, who immediately began drawing large pink circles. “As soon as they adopted me, their luck got better. They’d been trying to get loans to make some improvements to the farm and the month after I moved in, the loans were all approved.”

_Howard, you sneaky old bastard._

“That sounds great!” Bucky pointed Jimmy at a bowl and set him to cracking the eggs into it. He lay the bacon out on a baking tray and slid it into the oven and then showed Jimmy how to beat the eggs together.

“It wasn’t just money,” Becca continued. “A year after they got me, Mom got pregnant. They’d been trying for years—they’d given up, which is why they adopted me. But then they had Ben and Sarah.”

Bucky sighed. Before he could think of what to say, the sound of a key in the lock filled the room.

“Oh.” Natasha stood in the door, Clint peering over her shoulder. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Nat, Clint. Please.” Bucky ran his hand over his face. _Just what I need. Every corner of my life colliding all at once._ “Come in. I’d like you to meet my sister and her husband. And their family.”

Natasha’s face immediately filled with friendly pleasure, but Bucky saw Clint’s brows pull together before he, too, smiled and shook everyone’s hand.

Clint ended up in the kitchen with Jimmy, running the bialies through the toaster and setting out the different cream cheeses he and Natasha had brought.

Natasha pulled Bucky down the hall to his bedroom and said, “Did Tony do this?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not. There’s a reason I was staying out of her life. I haven’t—I chose to stay away a long time ago.”

Nat squeezed his shoulder and stood silently next to him for a minute. “Do you want me to find out?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll… it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

In the living room, Becca was in the kitchen as well. As Bucky came down the hall, he heard her say, “So, we’d been watching the news and it was just awful. I waited as long as I could, but I just couldn’t stay away any more. I had to come to find out if I could find Bucky.”


	11. College?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard isn't really the best judge of his son, no matter how much he loves him.

1984

France was more fun than Bucky had expected. It helped, he thought, that Néo’s sous chef had taught him a wider range of swear words than Tony’s teachers at school had. It also helped that Maria wasn’t very concerned about them wandering around on their own. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Tony called from the front of the store they were exploring. Maria had handed them five hundred francs each and told them that they should be home for dinner. It still seemed odd to Bucky that neither of Tony’s parents ever seemed to want to spend time with him, but he figured that maybe rich people were just weird that way. Edwin and Ana always wanted to spend time with him.

“Bucky, where’d you go?” 

Bucky put down the snow globe he’d been looking at and followed the sound of Tony’s voice. “What? There was this stupid—” He broke off and stared.

Tony was holding a statuette of Captain America striding forward in front of the men in his unit. The original carving for the model might have been okay, but this was a cheap touristy thing, so it looked almost like the soldiers were melting. 

“Think Father would like it?” Tony was turning it side to side, his lips twisted into a sarcastic sort of smile. 

“I think he’d rather you get him something that exploded, really,” Bucky said. _Why is Tony so mad at his dad for wanting to find his old friend’s body?_ “I found a cool snow globe in the back, though. It’s three globes stuck together.” 

“I’m getting it.” Tony tucked the awful statuette under his arm and turned to Bucky. “Let’s go look at this snowball thing. Maybe Mother’d like that.”

“Why are you so determined to get them tacky tourist stuff?”

Tony smirked at him. “Come on, you never got your family stupid gifts on vacation?” Bucky felt his expression change and Tony looked stiff. “Uh. Sorry,” he said, turning back to the snow globes Bucky’d found. “These are pretty cool, actually.”

“No they’re not. But they would be dumb enough to give to Maria, I guess.” Bucky picked them up. “If we’re shopping for gifts, I want to find yarn.”

“Mother doesn’t knit.”

“No, but Ana does and I want to bring her something nice.”

“Ana?” Tony turned away from the tea towel he was inspecting. 

“Edwin’s wife. She knits and she said she’d like something French, so I thought I’d get her yarn.”

“Jarvis is married?”

“Tony, how can you not know he’s married? They live in the same house as you.” 

Tony shrugged. “How can I keep up with all the changes in the lives of people I don’t really know?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he felt something ugly shift in his chest. _Does he mean people he doesn’t know or people he doesn’t care about? And since I spend most of my time with those people, does that mean he doesn’t care about me?_

They asked the man who rang them up if he knew where they could get yarn and he gave them directions to a shop. He seemed to think it was too far for them to walk to, but Bucky pulled out his Michelin map. 

“It’s only a mile away. That’s not far.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but willingly followed Bucky down the street. He stopped in front of a bakery and said, “Hey, let’s get _pain au chocolat_ while we’re walking.”

They munched their treats as they strolled along, chatting idly about the other people on the street. Bucky caught the eye of a man in a dark sweatshirt and jeans who’d been following them since they went into the first shop and smiled. 

Tony followed his glance and glowered. “I don’t know why Father has men following us. You’re supposed to be guarding me, so we don’t need them.”

Bucky stopped walking. “What do you mean? Why do you think I’m supposed to be guarding you? I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Isn’t that why you’ve been taking those martial arts classes? I know you’ve started learning to shoot as well. I wonder when Father’ll let me learn to shoot. I’m sure I’ll be great at it.”

Bucky stared at him. _This must be what Frank meant when he said that sometimes I’d want to use my training on the Starks as well as for them._ “I’m not a bodyguard. I’m a sixteen year old kid. Tony, what the fuck.”

“But if you’re not learning to fight to protect me, then why are you learning it at all?” Tony looked honestly confused and Bucky felt a familiar anger wash through him. He leaned forward and spoke directly into Tony’s face. 

“I don’t do things for you. I don’t belong to you. I’m a person on my own with my own needs and interests. You are not the fucking center of the universe, no matter how much you think you are. You’re just a shitty little stuck-up jerk who thinks that his money will buy him anything he wants. Well, it doesn’t buy me.”

Tony went white, then flushed a deep red. “My father absolutely did buy you. Don’t think I don’t remember what you cost us.”

Bucky’s heart twisted at the thought that Tony would remind him that his father sold him. “Oh and you’re going to throw that in my face? There’s nothing you won’t use to make yourself think you’re the one being hurt. Well, fuck you, Tony. Fuck you and your stupid face.”

Bucky stormed off down the street. He realized that his hands were crushing the bag with the snowglobe in it. For a second, he thought about just hurling it at the ground and watching it shatter into thousands of little pieces, but the thought that the glass might hurt someone stopped him. Trembling with fury and despair, he set the bag on a little brick half-wall bordering the sidewalk, and strode away.

That evening at dinner, Howard and Maria said that they were all going to England the next morning to explore London. Bucky tried to look excited about it, but knew that he wasn’t successful from the thoughtful expression on Edwin’s face. 

Tony’s chatter about seeing Aunt Peg and getting to explore in the Tower kept Howard entertained. Bucky ignored their conversation as much as he could until Howard said, “And you’ll want to make sure to give her your new address at MIT. She’ll want to send you treats, I’m certain.”

Bucky glanced up just in time to see Edwin’s expression shift from the neutral one he usually had while he was following Howard around to one of deep disbelief. 

“Wait, what do you mean MIT?” Bucky asked.

Tony turned to him, eyes narrow. “Oh, you finally have something to say?” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’ve outgrown the stupid school I’m in, so I’m _finally_ getting to go to college. You might not believe it, but some people know that I’m smart.”

Howard looked back and forth between them, his brows pulling together. “We’ve planned for Tony to go to college for years. It was a toss-up between MIT, Stanford, or—” 

“But—” Bucky fell silent. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation in front of Tony. “Right. Well. Congratulations.” He stood up. “I’ll go pack up, then. For the trip to England.”

In the bedroom he and Tony were sharing in the hotel suite, he sat on his bed and let his head fall into his hands. _College? He’s fourteen. He’s not ready for college. Hell, I’m not ready for college and I’m sixteen and not a fucking self-centered idiot. He’s just a little kid. They’ll eat him alive. What is Howard thinking?_

The door opened and he shot to his feet, looking around for his suitcase. “I’m just—”

“James.” Edwin’s voice was warm and Bucky felt his shoulders relax. “You seemed upset.”

Bucky snorted and collapsed back onto the bed. “Edwin, he’s a fucking asshole.”

Edwin’s brows rose. “I’m sorry, but to which Stark are you referring?” His tone was perfectly neutral, but the corners of his mouth twitched and Bucky barked a laugh.

“Well, I’d meant Tony, but Howard’s being stupid as well. Tony’s _fourteen_. He’s not ready to go live with twenty year olds. Sure, he can keep up academically, but he’s just a kid. They’re adults.”

Edwin sat on one of the ornamental side chairs hotels always seemed to litter around every large room. “I believe that Mister Stark has not thought this through, something he seems prone to regarding both of his sons.”

Bucky rolled his head to the side to look at Edwin. “What do you mean both? Is Maria pregnant again?”

Edwin looked sad. “I mean you, James.” He was silent for a long moment, then leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I am aware of the difficulty you had with Master Stark earlier today. I believe that Mister Stark does not have a clear-eyed view of how his schedule has affected his son’s understanding of interpersonal relationships.”

Bucky sat up. “What?”

“I think that the fact that Mister Stark is away all the time has made Master Stark unfamiliar with how families should behave.” Edwin looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon.

“Right.” Bucky rubbed his face. “That might explain why Tony thinks everyone around him belongs to him.” _But not me._

*

The ferry ride across the Channel was bouncy but exciting. Tony seemed to have forgotten the previous evening’s argument and he and Bucky raced all over the ferry, watching the different views and trying to be the first to see England’s coast. After they disembarked, Howard ushered them into a big car and took them to dinner in a pub.

Bucky stared around at the pub. It was exactly like all the pubs he’d seen in the movies. He expected that if he just waited, he’d see a spy sidle into the room and make mysterious gestures to the barmaid. He and Tony exchanged grins as they sat down.

The ride to London was boring and long; Bucky dozed a little as they drove. When he woke up, it was full dark and London’s lights were spread out in front of them. He turned to Tony, but he was fast asleep. His eyelashes spread across his cheeks and Bucky felt the center of his chest spasm at the sight of Tony vulnerable and soft.

The next morning, they ate breakfast in the living room of the large, multi-room suite in their hotel. Bucky’d been tired enough the night before that he hadn’t really noticed anything, but coming out of the bedroom he and Tony were sharing into a bright, open room with huge windows and a balcony wrapping around three sides of the living room, he felt dizzy for a second when he realized that the living room – he supposed the English would call it a parlor or something else fancy – was bigger than the whole apartment he’d grown up in.

“Bucky,” Howard called, gesturing him over. “I’ve ordered some of everything. I’m sure you two are hungry. I’ve made plans for us to go to the British Museum tomorrow – the curator wasn’t available today, but he made time for us tomorrow.”

Bucky paused, a bite of eggs halfway to his mouth. “The guy who runs the whole museum?”

Maria smiled. “He’s an old family friend of Howard’s,” she said. “They served together in the war.”

Howard smiled. “He’s another James. You’ll like him.”

“Huh. Okay.” Bucky ate quietly for a couple of minutes, then asked. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Hey,” Tony shouted from the door. “You didn’t wait for me? There’ll be none left!” He shoveled his plate full of food and shoved a whole slice of what Bucky had thought was thin-sliced ham into his mouth. “Mmm,” Tony said, “I missed British bacon.”

“I thought you guys could go with Aunt Peg to see the Tower today,” Howard said. “I think your mother is going shopping and I’ve got a few meetings. We’ll all have dinner together, here in the hotel?”

Tony nodded. “I can’t wait. I’m sure Aunt Peg knows a lot about the stuff in the Tower. And Bucky hasn’t met her. He’ll like her.”

About an hour later, Howard and Maria left them in the lobby with Edwin. Just as they were leaving, a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and eyes stopped them. They all exchanged hugs and Tony leaned over to Bucky to whisper, “That’s my Aunt Peggy. She’s great.”

She strode over to them and gave Edwin a long hug. Bucky looked closely at her. She seemed very familiar to him, like he’d seen her somewhere else.

“It’s been too long,” she said, smiling at him. She hugged Tony as well, then turned to Bucky. “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced, but I assume you’re James Barnes.” She stuck out a hand and he shook it.

“Yes, ma’am.” He realized where he’d seen her before. She was the pretty lady Edwin had been talking to at the party Howard’d thrown for Tony when Bucky had first moved in. 

“So formal,” she said, smiling brightly. “Aren’t you the charmer?”

At her side, Tony’s face twisted, but cleared quickly. “Are you gonna take us to see the Tower?”

She laughed. “I believe that’s the plan.” 

Edwin said, nearly too low for Bucky to hear, “I hope this plan goes better than some of the others we’ve had.” The look of amused mischief she shot him made Bucky think Tony was right and he was going to like her.

They took a taxi to the Tower and joined a tour group to wander through the building and exhibit. Tony fidgeted while they waited, but Aunt Peg was good at distracting him. When they finally got through to the more interesting bits of the tour, Edwin took Tony closer to the jewel case, leaving Aunt Peg with Bucky.

“So,” she said, strolling along slowly and looking at the displays on the walls. “You’re much quieter than I expected.”

Bucky shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be much to say, really.”

She shot him a sharp look, then sighed. “The Starks are a lot to take, I think. It wasn’t so bad when we were younger, but Tony’s a lot like his father, only without the war to focus on.”

Bucky paused. “Are you sure you should be talking to me about this?”

Her eyebrows rose. “You’re his soul mate. You’ll end up knowing everything there is to know about him.” She looked at him closely. “You’re much more mature than he is already.”

“I’m two years older.”

She started walking again. “Mmm, true.” 

Ahead of them, Tony’s voice came clearly: “But I wanted to see the other things.” Bucky couldn’t hear Edwin’s response, but he sighed.

“He’s not really as ready for things as his father thinks he is,” Bucky said. Peggy made an inquiring noise, but Bucky shook his head. “It’s not important.”

They had lunch at a fancy restaurant that was down several steps from the sidewalk. Tony tried to get Bucky to order haggis, but Bucky just rolled his eyes and picked something normal. After lunch, they all piled onto the subway and went to Westminster Abbey.

At dinner, which was served in a private dining room in the hotel’s restaurant, and for which they’d changed into formal clothes, the conversation turned to their plans for the rest of the year. 

Tony said, “I’m going to MIT this fall and I can’t wait. I’m going to start working on miniaturization of computer chips.”

Peggy turned to Howard. “You’re letting him go to college?”

Bucky’s head snapped up. _Wait, someone agrees with me?_

“Of course,” Howard said. “He’s been ready for it for years.”

“But he’s fourteen.”

“Peggy, you can’t be serious. British children go to uni at sixteen. This is only a couple of years different.”

As Peggy glanced from Howard to Tony, she caught Bucky’s expression and a rush of comprehension filled her face. “Ah,” she said. “This might be something to discuss at another time.”

Bucky deflated, turning back to his Beef Wellington. Howard had decided and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> [Here's the balcony in their hotel.](https://tinyurl.com/yx9t97ce)
> 
> [360 images of Tower of London](https://www.youvisit.com/tour/meadk)
> 
> [An actual tour of the Tower](https://youtu.be/yeLQVare-3k)


	12. Let's Talk About History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becca has a lot of questions about Bucky's life.

2012

“So you’re from Iowa?” Nat asked. She was sitting on the couch near the big window at the front of the apartment.

Ryan looked up from where he was helping Anna eat her bagel. “Indiana. We actually met in college, at a soul mate party.” He shared a smile with Becca, who blushed as she caught Bucky’s amused glance.

“Did you ever find your soul mate?” she asked him.

Bucky stilled, then ran his hand over his face. “What did dad tell you about what happened?”

She swiveled in her chair to face him where he sat, in a large chair he usually used for dozing when he didn’t feel up to going upstairs to sleep. “He didn’t say much. He picked me up at school, which I thought was weird. And he said you weren’t coming home. And then the next day he drove us to Indianapolis.” She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t really remember very clearly. The drive was long and I fell asleep. I only know where we went because Mom and Dad have told me.”

Bucky nodded, trying to keep his expression light. He could see Jimmy, sitting on the floor with one of Bucky’s old science fiction books, paying close attention. _I wonder if she’s ever told him any of this._ “What did he tell your, um. Your parents?”

“Oh he never met them. I didn’t get adopted for a month, at least.” She tapped her fingertips together. “He left me in some office and…” She trailed off with a terribly sad expression. “He said he’d be right back and then he left the room and he never came back.”

Bucky saw Natasha’s face go smooth and still and sighed. “He did something similar with me. Do you remember what he said about me not coming with you?”

She shrugged. “He said that you didn’t like me anymore.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped and she laughed. 

“Oh, I didn’t believe him. But then I couldn’t get anyone to believe me that I had a brother – he’d filed papers with the county saying that I was an orphan and my parents had died in a car accident.” 

The room was silent, except for the slight sounds of the street filtering in through the window. Becca turned to Ryan. “One of the things that made me not sure if this was the right place was that the sound is wrong. I remember it being louder and there being more sirens.”

Bucky snorted. “I didn’t sleep well for the first month because the house had double paned windows and the rooms were so quiet. It was weird.”

“Where did you go?” Becca leaned forward. “I didn’t know how to find you. I’ve done lots of googling and you just don’t show up. Did you ever find your soul mate?”

Nat stood up and smiled. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Clint and I must get going. James, I’ll see you later?”

Across the room, Clint jolted, then followed her cue. “It was great to meet you all,” he said. 

They slipped out of the apartment, locking the door behind them, and Becca turned back to Bucky. “They seem nice. Are they your family?”

Bucky stared sadly into his empty cup. “I’m going to need more coffee. Do you guys want anything?” They shook their heads and he stood up to start another pot of coffee. “I did meet him. That’s where my father took me, actually.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Will we get to meet him? When does he get home? Will he be upset that we’re here?” Becca paused as Ryan put his hand on her arm. “Sorry,” she smiled. “I get excited.”

“He—we aren’t living together.” Bucky saw her face contract; behind her, Ryan didn’t look surprised. “My father gave me to his family and then left me there.”

“Were they willing to have you?” Becca seemed horrified.

“Oh yeah. In the event, it was a great place for me. I learned a lot and I ended up with a lot of connections. But, well.” Bucky watched the coffee pot slowly fill. “My soul mate and I probably shouldn’t have met so young.”

“How old was he?” Ryan sounded confused. “How old were you?”

Bucky took his new coffee to the table and sat across from them. Anna was napping on the other side of the couch from where Nat had been sitting and her curly hair stuck wildly out of the blanket she was wrapped in. It reminded Bucky so much of how Becca had looked at that age and he had to turn away.

“I was twelve and he was ten.” He sipped his coffee, looking anywhere but at Becca and Ryan. Jimmy had wiggled closer; he was pretending to read, but Bucky saw him watching them out of the corner of his eyes.

“That’s too young,” Ryan said, sounded shocked. “Jimmy’s ten.”

“It was pretty young, yes. I mean, we didn’t get married right away, obviously, but still.”

“Are you married?” Becca’s voice was small.

“Yes.” Bucky felt the ghost of his left thumb rub his now-crushed-forever wedding ring. “Yeah, we got married.”

“When?”

“Oh, Howard wanted us to do it when I graduated from college, so we waited until then.” Bucky thought about the ways his wedding had been a disaster and grimaced. “We probably should have refused, but no one could really stand up to Howard. He was a force of nature.”

Ryan’s brows drew together and he looked like he was trying to remember something. 

“So if you’d just graduated, you got married when you were twenty one and he was nineteen?” Becca didn’t sound any happier.

“Mmm, twenty-two and twenty, but yeah. I think it wasn’t intended as anything but a formality, really.” Bucky turned his cup from side to side. “Are you guys staying at a hotel or do you want to stay here? I don’t think there’s anything of the old neighborhood to show you, and I’ve never been able to find Sascha—”

Becca lit up. “Oh my god, _Sascha!_ She was real?” She bounced in her seat. “I named every horse I got Sascha and told everyone I knew that my imaginary friend’s mom made the best chocolate chip cookies.”

Bucky laughed. “She was very real and I wish I could find her. And that recipe. You’re right. They were great cookies.”

Becca stopped laughing. “Wait. They lived here with us. Are you saying they disappeared as well?”

“I’ve assumed that my father paid for them to go somewhere else.”

Becca’s face filled with confusion. “How could he pay for that? He didn’t have any money. I’m sure I remember that.”

Bucky sighed. “He got a lot of money from my soul mate’s family.”

They stared at him. He saw Jimmy stop pretending to read his book and turn to look at him as well.

“What do you mean ‘from your soul mate’s family’?” Becca’s voice was stiff.

“My soul mate’s family was—is very rich and my father... Well. He sold me to them.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. 

“James. _Bucky._ ” Becca sounded like she was near tears. “Were they okay to you? Did they hurt you?”

“What? No, they were fine. Howard and Maria were almost never home, but Edwin and the rest of the staff were great. Ana taught me how to make brisket and _rakott krumpli_ and her honey cake was delicious.”

“So you grew up with the _servants?_ ”

Bucky felt his shoulders tighten. “No. I grew up with intelligent, capable, skilled people who happened to be employed by my soul mate’s father. They were all wonderful people.”

She waved her hands, looking contrite. “I don’t mean that – I’m sure they were fantastic. I mean, were you expected to be a servant because you were some rich kid’s soul mate?”

“Ah.” Bucky ignored the flashing memory of all the times he’d fought with Tony about that. “No. I was a member of the family. In a way,” he continued, “I was a member of both families. More than my soul mate was.”

“What do you mean ‘both’ families?” 

Bucky thought about the way Néo and Frank would bicker and how he’d been amazed to find out that they were soul mates and the way that the entire kitchen staff would stay up and watch movies with him and Edwin and Ana on long weekends when Howard and Maria were away. “My soul mate went to boarding school, and his parents were often away on long trips, so I spent a lot of time with the staff. And they were a family. It was a little weird, maybe, but I think I was lucky to have found them.” He smiled down at his hand. “Every one of them taught me something about their job or about life.” _I should email Néo and tell him I’m okay._

Ryan saw that Jimmy had stopped reading. “Jimmy, would you like to go out with me and find something to have for lunch?”

Jimmy shook his head. “No. I wanna know more about Uncle Bucky.”

Becca leaned back in her seat. “I’m not sure—”

“He’s gonna learn about it anyway, Becca,” Bucky said. “He might as well learn about me _from_ me.”

She looked unconvinced, but nodded. Bucky nodded to the empty chair at the table and Jimmy slipped into it.

Ryan looked thoughtful. “I just realized. I don’t think you’ve said who your soul mate is, yet.”

Bucky heaved a sigh. “He’s Tony Stark.”


	13. Moving Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College is filled with new opportunities.

1986

Bucky set the last box down on the floor of his new dorm and groaned. He hadn’t met his new room-mate yet – it looked like he hadn’t moved in – but he couldn’t wait to meet him now; Howard and Maria were waiting for him in the limousine. 

Downstairs, he trotted through the foyer of the dorm building and saw two students looking through the window at the car. 

“Who’s got the limo?” This guy had dark blond hair and looked like he hung out in the gym all the time. His companion was shorter and, impossibly, broader and more muscular. He shrugged. 

“Dunno, but if they’re not a broad, who cares?” He turned as Bucky clattered past them. “Hey buddy,” he called. “D’you know who that car’s here for?”

Bucky threw them a wave. “Me!” As he slid into the back, he saw the two guys goggling at him and he grinned. 

In the seat across from him, Maria smiled gently. “Are you making friends already?”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe. They wanted to know who had the limo.”

Howard barked a laugh. “Probably jealous. Are you sure you don’t want me to get you an apartment? I looked and there are a bunch I could put you in. All nearby, you wouldn’t have to go far.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “But I think I’d like to try this the normal way.”

“No Stark has ever done anything the normal way,” Howard said.

“Good thing I’m not a Stark then, ain’t it?” Bucky grinned at Howard’s startled glance. _He always forgets that I’m not really his kid._ “Anyway, it’ll be good to hang out with other freshmen.”

The limo pulled up in front of a restaurant and Bucky got out first, knowing that Howard would want to hand Maria out and help her with her coat. It wasn’t cold, but Howard did like to make sure that Maria was well-dressed and cossetted. When they were all ready, Howard strode forward, past the doorman and into the dim foyer.

They had a table in a small, private room in the back and Bucky sighed. He’d sort of wanted to sit in a window seat and watch the early-evening passers-by. 

Howard poured wine for himself and Maria, then filled a glass for Bucky, as well. “Here you go, kid. You’re nearly a grown up.”

Bucky snorted. Howard had been giving him liquor since he turned sixteen. He took a sip and said, “It’s passable, but it’s no _Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes_.”

Maria smiled, but Howard laughed. “I didn’t know I’d been raising a wine snob.”

“Néo made sure I knew what was what,” Bucky responded. “He’d have words with me if I didn’t pair the right wine with each course.”

“And Jarvis didn’t have anything t do with that, of course.” Howard smirked. Before he could say anything more, a waiter stepped into the room, tall and correct. He handed round menus and stepped out, murmuring something about returning in a few minutes.

Bucky glanced down the menu. He wondered how different the food in the college cafeteria was going to be from this, and from what he’d gotten used to eating from Néo. 

The waiter returned and after taking everyone’s order, slipped from the room again. Behind him, another staff member entered the room, laid out a selection of small loaves of breads, differently colored butters, and a small tray with sliced cheese, tiny wrinkled black olives, larger green ones, and thin slivers of prosciutto.

“I’ve been thinking,” Howard said, ripping a loaf apart and stacking it high with antipasto. “I think you should have the first of your inheritance, now that you’re grown up and going to college.”

Bucky was halfway to taking a bite of his own loaf of bread. “I—the first? Inheritance?”

Maria looked anxious. “Did you think we’d let you go off to school without getting at least something small settled on you?”

Bucky set his bread down on the plate. “I assumed I’d continue getting the allowance Edwin’s been giving me.”

“Sure, sure,” Howard said, waving his hands broadly. “But it’s time you got some actual money, to learn how to manage it.” He filled a plate for Maria and handed it to her. “I was thinking that five million would be a good start.”

Bucky felt his face shift, but he couldn’t tell what emotion it was showing. Howard seemed to understand, though, because his answering grin was sharp. 

“Yeah, I thought that might catch your attention. Can’t let the old man get more than you, after all. You’re worth a hundred of him.”

Bucky shivered. He didn’t think about his father much anymore, and the reminder now was a bit jarring. 

After a moment, he said, “So you’re just cutting me a check?”

The waiter and two other wait staff came back into the room. As the busboy cleared away the dishes, the waiter supervised the distribution of the first course. He also showed Howard another bottle of wine, and after he nodded, poured it into three fresh glasses.

After everyone left, Howard turned back to Bucky. “No, I put it into an account at the bank. I’ll have my investor guys talk to you – you should learn about investing and stuff. You’ll be good at it.”

Bucky took a bite of his appetizer, feeling odd. Howard didn’t usually compliment him. Howard didn’t usually compliment anyone. Hearing him say something nice about him made him uncomfortable. He thought about the big, happy dinner he’d had with Edwin and Ana and the rest of the house staff, last weekend, and wondered at the difference between how it felt to spend time with Howard and how it felt to spend time with Edwin, or Frank. 

“Anyway, Obie was sure you’d take the money and run, but that doesn’t make any sense,” Howard said, finishing his own appetizer. “You’re Tony’s soul mate, after all, and you’re a great kid. I can’t wait to see you and Tony all grown up and with kids of your own.”

_Fucking Obie never did stop thinking I’m like my father._ “I don’t know that Tony’ll want kids,” Bucky said.

“You never know,” Maria said, her voice soft. “I was certain I’d never have children and here we are.”

The main course arrived and they started talking about what Bucky was planning on studying.

***

“Hey Bucky!” Bucky looked over the grassy quad and saw his room-mate Reese waving both arms. “Come here!”

Bucky grinned and threaded his way through the groups of chattering students. It was the first nice day of spring and everyone was outside. Reese and his girlfriend Sara sprawled over each other on a big blanket, with Sara’s group of friends lying on blankets nearby. With a laugh, Bucky lay across both Reese and Sara, and propped his head up on his hands.

“Hey Carlos,” he said to one of the guys sitting on a low lawn chair next to Reese’s head. “What’re you doing to do for Grandt’s project?”

Carlos looked up from his book. “I thought I’d talk to Health Services, see if they’d be interested in setting up something with my aunt. She’s a nurse down in Harlem Hospital. They got a lotta need.”

Bucky nodded. “He’ll like that.”

Carlos smirked. “He’s always ‘down with the homies’.” He stuck a finger into his book to hold his place and handed Bucky a can of coke. “What about you?”

“I want to do something with soul mates.” Behind him, Bucky heard Sara gasp. He looked down his side at her. “Not everyone’s bond is good. People are still shitty sometimes.”

She looked uncomfortable, but shrugged. “I don’t have Grandt, and now I’m glad.”

“You’re a polisci major anyway,” Reese said, “so you have no room to talk.”

She huffed and shoved playfully at Reese, but Bucky wondered what she really thought. She always seemed really awkward about the fact that she wouldn’t wear sleeves shorter than elbow-length. Her family was part of some cult that didn’t allow soul mates to meet until they were twenty-five. She’d been very shocked when she learned that Bucky had grown up with his.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, turning back to Carlos, who’d rolled his eyes at Sara, “I was thinking about setting up something like counseling? Or at least an information campaign, so that people learn that it’s okay if you don’t end up with your soul mate.”

Carlos nodded. “So, Health Services for you, too. I’m going on Wednesday, wanna come with?”

“Let me run it all past Grandt first? But yeah, I think Health Services is where I’ll start.”

Grandt was enthusiastic about Bucky’s ideas. He hadn’t talked about soul mates yet in class and asked if Bucky would be willing to put together a presentation about ways that soul mate pairings could be difficult. It would be worth half a grade-point in extra credit, he said.

When Bucky stood up in front of the whole class to give the presentation, he realized that using his own parents and their disastrous relationship as the foundation for his presentation might have been a bad choice. He didn’t have time to change the names on the sheets for the overhead projector. 

“Hi,” he said, standing in front of the class and having a sudden burst of sympathy for every one of his teachers ever, “I’d like to discuss soul mates, soul bonds, and the ways that these relationships can be subject to abuse.”

The presentation itself wasn’t particularly difficult – he’d practiced it a couple of times in the dorm bathroom – but then he had to have a discussion with the class and for one horrible minute, Bucky thought he’d just run from the room. 

“I’m wondering if you’re just confused about this because your dad was so bad,” one guy said, from the dark corner of the back of the room. He always asked rude questions in class and Bucky was surprised that he wasn’t being more rude.

“I can see why my personal investment in this makes it seem like I’m taking things out of perspective, but I have seen many cases where soul mates and bonded soul mates are in abusive relationships.” Bucky paused, thinking back to the couple in Tony’s house. “And, while it’s true that in general, domestic abuse is largely something perpetrated by men, the very little bit of research I can find about soul mate domestic abuse seems to say that it’s an even thing. I mean, that both men and women can be abusive.”

One of the girls up front peered at him. “But you grew up with your soul mate, you’ve said. So are you saying that you don’t want to bond with him? Or are you saying that soul mates shouldn’t bond at all?”

Bucky rubbed his nose. “I… I’m not saying anything, right now. I just think it’s an issue we should be looking at. Just being someone’s soul mate doesn’t make them perfect. It’s entirely possible to have your soul mate be a real asshole.”

“But doesn’t that mean that you deserve the asshole?”

Bucky’s head snapped up and he turned to face this questioner directly. “No. No one ever deserves to be beaten until they’re unconscious. No one ever deserves having their spouse throw them into a wall because they’re in a bad mood or drunk, or they lost their job.”

Before Bucky could continue, the guy sitting next to the one who’d asked the question smacked him on the shoulder hard enough to rock him to the side.

“Dude,” he hissed. “What the fuck kind of a question is that?”

“And that’s all the time we have for class today,” Grandt said, stepping forward. “Don’t forget, you’ll have to turn in your own project proposals by the end of the week. The midterms are in three weeks and you should be studying for them already.”

As the class filtered out, a couple of people Bucky didn’t know well hovered around the door. When they were the only ones left in the room, one boy came up to Bucky and said, “Hey, thanks. My mom used to get drunk and sleep with all sorts of other guys and then make my dad clean up after them. If you need help getting posters or flyers put up, or something, let me know.” He held out his hand. “I’m Joe.”

Bucky reached out and took Joe’s hand, shaking it carefully. “I’m sure I’ll need help with something.” He saw the group of students relax a bit. “We should get together, maybe? In a study room in the library? I kind of want to make this something that could really help.”


	14. Meeting Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets back in touch.

2012

Bucky rubbed his eyes and sighed. He liked knowing that he was helping people in need, but right now, he was exhausted. He still hadn’t found a way to type, so he was using a voice-to-text application which needed a lot of training. With a pang, he realized that he missed Jarvis – for once, he wanted to interact with the computerized version. He knew that he’d have been able to get through his emails in a third of the time if he hadn’t had to hunt and peck. 

He was reaching for the off button when he heard the ping of an incoming email. For one long moment, he thought about ignoring it. Surely he could deal with whatever it was tomorrow, right? With a groan, he opened his email again. The name on the email made him fall back into his chair.

_From: Anthony Stark  
To: James Barnes_

_James,_

_I know that things are chaotic right now, but I would like to talk to you. In person, if possible. I have been thinking about our situation and I think I have come up with a solution._

_I will make myself available to you at any time; please choose a time and place and I will be there._

_Anthony_

Bucky stared at the screen, his skin prickling with sudden nerves. _What on earth does he mean by ‘our situation’? And what fucking solution does he think we need?_

“Shit.” He covered his eyes with his hand. “Shit shit shit. I don’t need this now, Tony.”

With a feeling of creeping dread, he clicked on Reply and typed.

_From: James Barnes  
To: Anthony Stark_

_Tony, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We can meet at—_

He paused and sat back. Where _should_ they meet? He looked around his home office. They sure as fuck weren’t going to be meeting here and his office building was still half rubble. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to meet Tony anywhere public. 

He trundled into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. Becca and her family were still in town, but they’d gone to spend the day touristing around Lower Manhattan. He didn’t expect them back until it started to get dark, and possibly later than that. They’d have to get dinner, after all. 

While the coffee drained through the filter, he idly cleaned up a bit. Some of the bedding from the guest bedroom had migrated out to the living room, and he and Ryan had left their beer bottles out last night. Finally, the coffee was done and, while was pouring himself a cup, he thought of where he and Tony could meet.

_— 103 W 70th. Look for the button labeled Smythe. I can’t meet until next week, and Tuesday would be best for me. Maybe around 2?_

_James_

“What the actual fuck are you playing at, Tony?” Bucky couldn’t quite wish that Tony had continued to pretend that he, Bucky, was dead, but he’d sort of wanted things to just keep going the way they had been. He knew that wouldn’t work in the long-run, though. They’d have to get things settled. 

That evening, as he scrolled through facebook on his phone while eating another dinner of soup because it was easier to just open a can than try to cook, he realized he knew what Tony wanted. He wanted a divorce.

Becca and her family burst through the door before he had time to figure out how he felt about that and he hid his own distress under the pleasure of listening to them tell him everything about their day.

“… and then we climbed up a million stairs,” Jimmy said, “and we only got as high as her feet. Why’d they stop letting people go all the way up?”

Bucky turned to Becca, who was wrestling Anna into a fresh diaper and pajamas. She just shrugged and said, “There was a terrorist attack—”

“Oh,” Jimmy said. “That’s stupid. The Avengers would stop terrorists if they tried to hurt the Statue of Liberty.”

Bucky, thinking of the way Thor and Clint used to make increasingly ridiculous plans together, snorted. “They’d certainly try, kiddo.” He relaxed back into his chair. “I got to go up when I was a kid. It was harder than I thought it would be.”

Jimmy looked up. “Were you my age?”

“I was a bit older. I think I was about fifteen.” 

“That’s _old_!” Jimmy looked horrified. “Am I going to have to wait that long?”

Behind him, Ryan had buried his head in his hands, but it was clear he was laughing. “Alright,” he said, still chuckling. “Time for bed.” He gathered up Anna and took Jimmy’s hand. “I know you don’t wanna go, sport, but it’s definitely bedtime. I’ll read you another chapter of your book, okay?”

Becca sat down next to Bucky and sighed. “I’m so glad I found you.” She lolled her head back against the back of the couch. “We’re going back home on Sunday. When can you come visit us?”

“Really?” Bucky didn’t know why he was surprised. Becca had mentioned several times that her adoptive parents wanted to meet him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting them.

“Yes. Everyone was so excited when I called and told them I’d found you.” She stood up. “Have you eaten? I can cook something for you.”

He smiled up at her. “I had soup. I’m a big boy, you know, and can feed myself.”

She looked a bit sheepish. “It’s hard to turn off being ‘mom’.” 

Just then Ryan came back into the room. “He fell asleep about two pages in,” he said, collapsing down onto the couch. “I know why so many of you New Yorkers are so fit. You walk everywhere. I think my feet are going to fall off.”

Bucky laughed. “We take cabs, too.”

“Right.” Ryan turned to Becca. “Did you ask him?”

“I don’t know when I can come visit.”

“I didn’t.” 

Bucky turned to his sister. “So, what _were_ you supposed to ask me?”

She tucked her feet under herself and wrapped her arms around her waist. “So, if Tony Stark’s your soul mate, why aren’t you living with him? Or him with you. However.” She wouldn’t look at Bucky’s face, but kept her eyes firmly pointed at the coffee table. “He’s not staying away because of us, is he?”

Bucky leaned forward and held his hand out to her. “Oh, Becca, no. No, him not being here has nothing to do with you. He and I…” Bucky tried to think of how to say this. “We’re not very well matched. It’s possible that we’d have fit better if we’d met later, when we were older. But my father forced the issue and now we’re here.”

“What do you mean ‘not well matched’?” Becca had shifted from looking woebegone to furious. “How could he – how could anyone not want to be your soul mate?”

“It’s not—we didn’t have a lot in common when we were children, and having the soul bond start forming then didn’t help.” 

“Then you don’t love each other?” Now she looked like she was going to cry.

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know.” Something about saying that out loud – admitting that he wasn’t sure that Tony loved him – had the complicated effect of making him feel both relief (he’d finally admitted that his soul mate didn’t love him) and despair (his soul mate, who he loved very much, _didn’t love him_ ). 

Becca whimpered and Ryan came to sit next to her. She fell against him and buried her face into the curve of his shoulder. Ryan’s expression was filled with sorrow. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. 

Bucky shrugged. “Thank you? I’ve had a lot of time to get used to it.”

On Sunday, Bucky went in the cab with them to the airport, where he hugged everyone, promised to find a time to come and visit, and then stood waving goodbye at the security line. When they’d gotten through the whole line and vanished around the corner on the far side, headed to the gates, he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

A tall woman standing near him sent him a wry smile. “It’s always hard having family visit, isn’t it? It’s great to see them, they have lots of weird ideas about what it’s like to live in The Big City, and then they leave again and suddenly you realize you forgot to tell them you love them.”

Bucky laughed. “Oh god, you’re not reading my mind, right? Tell me you’re not psychic.” 

She snorted. “No, thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to be able to read minds in this city.”

He snorted in return. “Yeah, just seeing what people wear on the subway’s enough, sometimes.” He heaved a breath. 

“Anyway,” she said, before he could. “I hope they haven’t left you a huge mess. My brother’s kids are terrible about that.”

“Nah. I think they might have left my house cleaner than it was when they got here.” He turned, waved goodbye, and walked out to the taxi stand.

Working in his office on Monday evening, Bucky heard the door open and close downstairs. Curious, he shut down his computer and trotted down. Natasha and Clint had avoided coming over while his sister was here and he wondered why they were coming over now.

“I thought you might need cheering up.” Natasha had set the table with a bottle of wine, a large fruit basket, containers from the local Greek and Thai restaurants, and a small cheesecake. 

“Is Clint in the kitchen?” Bucky went to go help him get glasses and plates, but the kitchen was empty.

“Nope. Tony’s freaking out about something, and he stayed to help hold down the fort.” She looked up from where she was pouring the wine and shook the bottle at him gently. “I got this from Tony’s secret stash, so it should be good.”

Bucky looked at her, but her expression remained neutral. “Tony, huh?” He reached for the box of pad see ew and dished some onto one of the plates he’d brought in. 

She made an unholy mess of keftedes, souvlaki, and Thai yellow curry over jasmine rice and plopped down across from him. “Something’s got him spooked.” She ate a few bites, watching him steadily. “You don’t know what it is?”

He finished his food and took some of the souvlaki. “Nat…” After a few bites, he tried again. “We’re meeting tomorrow and I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask for a divorce.” Bucky shrugged, trying to look casual. “He’ll be pleased. He’s always wanted to marry Pepper – she’s better for the business, anyway.”

Natasha set down her plate, very slowly. Then she carefully put her hands on the table next to the plate and leaned forward, glaring at him. “That man does not look or act like he wants to marry Pepper.” She pointed a finger at him. “He’s been acting like he’s about to have his toy taken away. And anyway,” she continued, falling back into her chair and picking her plate up. “She wouldn’t have him.”

Bucky shrugged. “Welp. I’ve known Tony since I was twelve. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to marry me, so…” 

Tuesday morning, Bucky couldn’t settle down; eventually, he took the subway into the city and trotted up the stairs to the apartment where he’d arranged to meet Tony. He had several small apartments around the five boroughs, places where the people his organization rescued could stay until they were in better situations and could go back to living on their own. 

This one was a tiny studio, with a loft for the bed, a miniscule kitchen, but an actual bathroom with a washer and a dryer. It had been empty since just before the Chitauri attacked, and getting there early meant that Bucky could check it to make sure it was still in good condition.

He ran the coffee machine and, sitting at the one little window, let himself relax as much as he could before seeing Tony for the first time in nearly four months. It wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other, but usually they had some sort of contact: emails or phone calls. 

The buzzer shrilled and he stumbled across the room to let Tony in, propping the door open so that Tony knew which was the right apartment. He could hear Tony as he came up the stairs, complaining under his breath about walk-up apartments and how this couldn’t be legal, surely an elevator was required.

Before Tony walked in, Bucky draped his jacket over his shoulders. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on Tony’s face when he realized that Bucky had lost his arm. He didn’t want Tony to change his mind and decide to stay married to him out of pity. He sat down one of the two small chairs and tried to make it look like the left side of his jacket wasn’t sagging. 

Tony walked into the apartment and Bucky froze. He could feel himself wanting desperately to reach out, to just grab Tony and hug him and hold him close. They’d been apart for so long and even before that, Tony had been unavailable, so it had been almost a year since they’d touched. Bucky gritted his teeth and ignored his own, clearly unwanted and unimportant, desires.

Tony watched him for a second, then looked around the room. His expression soured. “Is this where you’ve been living? This tiny little shithole, when you could still be with me, at the Tower?”

Bucky went cold, and knew that this was it. This would be the last time he saw his soul mate.

“Where I live isn’t any of your business, is it? It never has been.” He gestured to the other chair. “Have a seat and let’s get this over with. I assume there are papers you want me to sign.”

Tony turned to him from his close examination of the washer and dryer. “Papers? Why would I have papers for you?” He flicked a glance back at the appliances. “I didn’t know those came in quarter-size. Miniaturization’s really come a long way, huh?”

He turned the chair around and straddled it, crossing his arms along the back of the chair. “I’ve got a proposition for you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I’ve finally decided. It’s time we—”

“Got a divorce, I know,” Bucky interrupted, suddenly sure that he couldn’t bear to hear Tony say it out loud. It would be bad enough to have to read about it in the legal paperwork. 

Tony recoiled, then sat stone still. He didn’t move, just stared at Bucky, his face blank. For a minute, Bucky worried that he’d even stopped breathing. 

“Is that what you—well fuck. That’s just great. You’re telling me that I’m too late?” An expression that almost looked like despair flashed across his face for a heartbeat, but was gone before Bucky could give it thought.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse. Begging Tony to stay, to give them one more chance, would just be humiliating – and wouldn’t do anything to change Tony’s mind. Telling Tony just how much he’d hurt him over their life together would just bring all those past pains up again – and wouldn’t do anything to change Tony’s mind. 

After a long silence, Tony leaned forward a little. “That—what I’d been thinking about will take a little time to set up, and we’ll have to see each other a bunch before it’s ready. You know, to, uh. To work out the details. How about we set up another meeting, something regular. Uh,” he glanced around the room again. “Someplace nice, with food or something. And then we can talk about what the plan is.”

Bucky shook his head. “Please don’t do this, Tony. Don’t drag this out.”

Tony widened his eyes and tried to look earnest. “I won’t, James. I promise. Just—it’s not—I’m not— Please? Can’t we just have dinner? One more time?”

Bucky dropped his head to his chest. “Fine. Fine, whatever you want.” He shifted in his chair and his jacket sagged, then slipped off his shoulders. “Shit,” he snapped, grabbing at it and dragging it back up. 

Across the table, Tony stared at him, his face suddenly filled with fury. “What happened? Where’s your _arm?_ ”


	15. Swings and Roundabouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's making progress with his personal projects, but his relationship with Tony isn't quite as easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is explicit, please be warned!

1988

Bucky adjusted his suit, checked his notes one last time, then stepped out into the little conference room Howard had reserved for him. 

Howard had helped him write his proposal and got him a short window of time at a local conference for philanthropic causes. Bucky had peeked out into the room and, for one second, quailed at the size of the group of people sitting and waiting for his presentation to start. He had expected maybe one or two people to be interested in _Methods of Approaching Failed Soul Mate Bonds_. In his wildest dreams, he’d thought there might be a whole five people at the presentation.

The room was practically full. He’d counted fifty seats when he’d done his practice run-through and now there were only a couple of empty seats. 

By the time he’d reached the podium, the room was entirely silent. Bucky looked over the audience, surprised to see the range of ages and genders, and then, with one last thought of his mother, started speaking.

“Thank you for coming. I must admit, I hadn’t expected my presentation to be so popular.” Bucky glanced down at his note cards and then flipped the stack of cards over. He knew the speech, he’d practiced it a million times. _Here goes nothing._

He started by explaining a bit about his own history. At first, he’d wanted to make up a story, but Joe and Marlene had convinced him that the authenticity of his story mattered. He felt awkward every time he told the story, because he always teared up when he talked about the way his mother had died. 

Once he was past that part, though, the rest of the speech—with the appropriate slides and charts on the projector—flowed easily. By the end, he felt almost as if he were talking to people he knew.

There was a moment of silence after he’d finished, then a hand rose in the middle of the room. 

“You said that you’ve found that the incidence of soul mate abuse isn’t related to income level. Where are you getting your data?” 

Bucky smiled and dove into the question and answer period, grateful for all the time he and his friends had spent preparing.

After a vigorous forty-five minutes, Bucky lifted his hands. “I’d love to keep discussing this with you,” he said to the remaining audience members, “but I only have the room for another quarter hour. I’ve got a small office and we could meet there, if you still have questions.”

“No, thank you,” a tall woman said, standing and drawing her thick camelhair coat around her shoulders. “I’ve heard quite enough. My lawyers and investment team will be in touch, Mr Barnes. I’m very impressed and I expect to see many good things coming from your organization.” She turned and started for the door, pausing as she approached a shorter, swarthy man with a broad grin. He’d had the most probing questions of the group. “Mr Palmiotti? I believe we have a lunch date.”

Mr. Palmiotti stood up. “My team’ll be in touch as well, Barnes. I like your style and I think a lotta people will come out good from you.” He held his elbow out to the tall woman and they swept from the room. 

Several other people indicated interest as they left, and when the room was finally empty, Bucky collapsed into a chair and let his arms and head sag back. 

“That went well,” Howard said, coming into the room, beaming. He perched on a chair and looked around the room. “I’m impressed. They all came out singing your praises.”

“Thanks, Howard,” Bucky said, sitting up with a groan. “I know this is mostly your doing.”

“Me?” Howard shook his head. “Nope. All I did was get you the room. Everything else is on you, kid.” He stood up. “Let’s get some lunch. Maria’s waiting to hear how it went.” Bucky shoved himself to his feet and groaned, making Howard laugh. “Not as easy as it looks, huh?”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he stuffed his notes and files—carefully taking the slides from the projector—into a box labeled BARNES: Case Files. He stuck the box under his arm then turned to Howard. “Where’s this lunch you promised me. I’m starving.”

After lunch, Howard says, “Have you put any thought into where you and Tony would like to go for the summer? He’s graduating in a month and I’m sure he’d like to do something special with you.”

“With me?” Bucky looked back and forth between Maria and Howard. “I thought he was going directly into research for that professor he liked so much.”

Howard shrugged. “He’s been asking me about Europe and I thought you two might enjoy a summer off.” He smirked a bit. “You know, sow some oats. Europe is more cosmopolitan than the States. I’m sure two young men could find something to entertain themselves on the continent for a few months.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure. I’d love to spend more time in France.”

Maria chuckled. “You just want to find the place where Noé said he learned how to make that beef dish.”

“Well,” Bucky drawled, smiling at her. “You can’t blame me for trying. He won’t tell me how he makes it and it’s delicious. I spend all year at school and can’t get home for his cooking as much as I want. You’d think he’d _want_ me to know how to make everything.”

The next Monday, Bucky was in one of the study rooms adjoining the chemistry lab when one of the chem majors burst in. 

“Hey, uh, Barnes. There’s someone to see you, out in your lab.” He was bouncing on his toes, much to Bucky’s confusion.

“If it’s Jones, tell him I’m working. He can’t move his assignment up any earlier, anyway. I don’t know why he keeps hassling me about it.”

“It’s not Professor Jones,” the chem major said, looking a bit scandalized. “It’s _Tony Stark_. Why’s he asking for you?”

“Oh.” Bucky stood up and glanced at his study partners. They were working on the soul mate project with him and they grimaced in return. “He’s my soul mate. He probably just wants to talk about our summer plans.” He peeked out of the door and saw Tony idly flipping through the folders left out on the front desk. He came to one and paused, reading the name on the jacket closely, then opening it. His expression, which had darkened as he read the name on the outside of the folder, blackened further when the folder was empty. _I wonder what’s making him mad. They’re just the folders for our test cases._

“Tony,” Bucky said, stepping into the main lab. “Come on through here. You can meet my study group.”

Tony’s head came up and for one moment, his expression was gentle and warm. He dropped the folders and strode past the chem major and into the center of the room. “Nice lab you’ve got here,” he said. 

Bucky snorted. “You know it’s nothing like the labs we’ve got at home, but it’s nice of you to pretend. Come on. Joe’s dying to meet you.”

Tony moved toward the door that Bucky’d pointed to and leaned against the door jamb. “Studying hard, I see.”

Joe, who’d actually told Bucky that he didn’t want to meet Tony, smiled up at him, filled with teeth. “Yup. We’re working on something important, something that should change the world.”

“In a gen chem lab?” Tony flicked a glance at Bucky, who sighed.

“We’re actually just using the front desk and this study room,” Bucky said. “This project isn’t a chemistry thing, but the professor has the space and he’s good friends with my advisor, so we got the room.”

“What’re you working on?” Tony came around and started looking over Bucky’s papers. He didn’t seem to notice Joe’s stiff expression.

“We’re trying to find out exactly how soul bonds are formed and whether it’s possible to dissolve them,” Joe responded. Bucky was startled at the sudden shift in Tony’s demeanor; he went from casually interested in cold and furious.

“Why?” Tony’s fingers were pressed against one folder so hard his fingertips were white.

“Because sometimes soul mates aren’t good for each other,” Joe said, a question in his voice. “I can’t believe that you’re Bucky’s soul mate and you don’t know how he feels about it. He tells everyone he meets, practically.”

Tony sent Joe a look so angry that Joe recoiled. “He does?”

Bucky stepped forward. “Tony, remember that lady who worked for us—for your father, the one whose soul mate came into the house and tried to beat her up?”

Tony’s expression eased and he looked thoughtful. “That’s why Frank started teaching you shit. Right, I do remember. Huh.” He looked back down at the folder he’d been leaning on and pursed his lips. “Right.”

He swung around to face Bucky. “Are you done here or do you need more time? I’m down for the weekend and wanted to go and get dinner before we see what my father’s got planned. I thought you might have some time to spend with me.”

Bucky caught Joe’s eye. Joe looked deeply skeptical, but Bucky knew that Tony didn’t think about how other people saw him. 

“Joe, can you clean things up here?” At Joe’s nod, Bucky grabbed his coat. “I’m all yours,” he said to Tony, internally pleased at how Tony’s expression shifted to pleasure.

Saturday night, Bucky lay in bed at home. He was trying to figure out why the bed in his dorm was so uncomfortable when the door creaked open and Tony slipped into his room. Bucky watched him pick his way toward his bed. When he was close, Bucky said, “Whatcha doing in here?”

Tony startled, then smiled, but it looked awkward and tense. “I was just coming to see you.” He sat on the edge of the bed and Bucky shifted back to give him room. “Remember when we were little and we slept in the same room?”

“Yes?”

Tony looked down at his hands, knotted together between his knees. He sucked in a breath and said, all in a rush, “Could I get in bed with you?”

Bucky stilled. He’d thought about what it would be like to touch Tony – they hadn’t ever really touched each other much and he still remembered, sometimes more explicitly than he was comfortable with, the times he and a too-young Tony would lie tangled together on the couch and watch movies. But Tony was eighteen now and he was twenty and why would it matter anymore? 

Suddenly he realized that he’d been silent for too long, staring at Tony as if he’d forgotten how to talk. Tony’s expression had tightened. 

“Yes!” Bucky said, too fast and too loud. He scooted back a little more, holding up the blankets. Tony’s face relaxed and he slithered under the covers.

At first, they lay facing each other and Bucky didn’t know what he was supposed to do. The center of his chest was warm; his soul mark, under him on his left shoulder, echoed the heat. 

Tony’s hand slid up Bucky’s right arm from wrist to shoulder and Bucky caught his breath. He’d been propositioned by some of his classmates and, no matter how ridiculous it felt, had always turned them down. He had a soul mate; he didn’t want to touch anyone else.

He reached out and stroked Tony’s cheek. It was so soft, even as it creased into a smile under his fingers. 

“Hey there,” he whispered. “What’re we doing?”

“If you can’t tell,” Tony said, a mixture of amused and sarcastic, “then I think your education has been sorely lacking.”

Bucky huffed a laugh and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Tony’s. They were soft and his cock, always interested in Tony, thickened. Tony leaned into him, mouth opening, tongue sliding out to touch Bucky’s. They spent several minutes just kissing – their only point of contact their mouths, sealed together.

Bucky pulled away finally, gasping and shivering. “Let’s get these clothes off?” He tugged at his tee-shirt but got tangled up in it as he pulled it over his shoulders and head. Tony laughed under breath and slid his hands up Bucky’s exposed stomach and chest, settling over his nipples. 

Bucky yanked at his shirt and threw it across the room. Tony’s fingers, rubbing hard over his nipples were making jolts of electricity shoot all over his body. 

“Come on, Tony, take your stuff off,” he groaned, leaning forward and burying his face in the soft spot behind Tony’s ear that had always looked so attractive. Tony’s body twitched and his fingers tightened, making Bucky’s body jerk.

“Okay, okay, but you’re in the way,” Tony said, sounding slightly strangled. A few frantic seconds later, they were both fully nude. Bucky leaned back and tried to see Tony’s body, but Tony reached for his cock and Bucky lost focus.

Tony’s hand was moving confidently, slowly, stroking easily up and down Bucky’s shaft; Bucky felt his whole body—everything from his soul mark down to the curves behind his knees—zeroing in on the sensation of Tony’s hand on him.

“Wait,” he choked out. “I want to touch you, too.” He put his hand on top of Tony’s and stopped him. Tony’s expression was hard for Bucky to see and understand, but that didn’t matter right now. Right now all that mattered was Tony soft and willing in his bed and the way they could make each other feel. 

Bucky ran his fingers along the curve of Tony’s neck, down to his nipples, standing at sharp attention. Bucky rubbed them, then when Tony whimpered, he bent down and sucked one into his mouth. Tony arched into the contact, his hand slipping from under Bucky’s and moving up to the back of Bucky’s neck. 

“Oh god, oh Bucky, yes, just…” Tony scrabbled at Bucky’s shoulder, then shoved them over so he was lying above Bucky, his head hanging down and Bucky’s face pressed to Tony’s chest. Bucky responded by moving back and forth between Tony’s nipples, sucking and biting and feeling his own lust growing at Tony’s obvious arousal.

He flipped them over again, grinning at Tony’s gasp. Bucky licked a stripe up Tony’s chest, and slid down the bed until he was facing Tony’s cock. It stood up proud, clearly interested in him as much as he was interested in it.

He gave it an experimental lick. He’d read about this – he’d read so much about how to make his soul mate happy – and he hoped that it was working, that he was making Tony feel as good as possible. Tony’s gasps and moans as Bucky slowly lowered his mouth over Tony’s cock were encouraging.

Before Bucky could go further, Tony’s fingers in Bucky’s hair tightened and he said, urgent and high, “Oh god, Bucky, I’m .. please don’t stop, oh … oh oh…”

Bucky felt his balls tighten at the wrecked sound of Tony’s voice and he sucked hard, pressing with his tongue, drawing up Tony’s shaft, trying to be careful and keep his teeth far from Tony. Tony’s orgasm seemed to come from everywhere; he arched back so hard his whole torso lifted from the mattress. His voice was a choked wail and Bucky thought, for one horrified second, of the way this must sound from outside.

Bucky rested his head on Tony’s hip and stroked Tony’s side gently. He was afraid to touch himself; he knew that if he did, he’d come right then and embarrass himself forever. 

“Hey,” Tony said, sounding hoarse. “How about I do something for you?”

Bucky grinned up at him. “Yeah? Like what?”

Tony tugged at Bucky’s hair and Bucky followed willingly. After a couple of moments, Tony was on top. His sharp grin as he moved down Bucky’s body made Bucky even hotter. His mouth was perfect; all teeth and wet tongue and suction everywhere. He seemed to know exactly where Bucky wanted him to touch and lick. Bucky tried to remember where it felt good so he could return the favor later but he could barely remember his own name by the time Tony made it to his cock.

The feeling of Tony’s mouth sliding down his length made Bucky lose whatever shreds of higher brain function he had left. He heard himself babbling and moaning and hoped he wasn’t too loud. One of Tony’s hands slipped down behind his balls, pressing in and Bucky felt all the heat and sparks and sensation rushing together in the center of his body and then everything exploded into white sparkles and light.

He blinked his vision clear and saw Tony slithering back up his body, a wide, wicked grin across his face. 

“That’s even better with you,” Tony said, and Bucky felt his chest cave in.


	16. Two Meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a new friend and gets an unexpected text.

Bucky looked around the sandwich shop and waved when he saw Chiki sitting at a big table in the back. He got a pastrami sandwich and a soda and wiggled through the tables to sit next to Chiki.

“How’s it going?” Chiki had already finished his own food and had been making notes on his tablet while he waited for Bucky.

Bucky chewed for a minute, then nodded and shrugged. When he could swallow, he said, “It’s certainly going.” He set the sandwich down to pick up his drink.

Chiki watched him, brows rising. “Are you thinking of getting a prosthetic? Or is it too early?”

Bucky rubbed his left shoulder. “The physio is starting to hint pretty broadly,” he said, “but I’m not sure. I mean, it’s not like I can just be Captain Hook. It’s pretty far up.”

“True, true. Maybe you could hold both the sandwich and the can of coke, though.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “It does mean I eat more slowly, something my family was always trying to get me to do.” 

Chiki brightened. “My daughter Aanya is just now becoming a teenager. Everything I’ve read says that teenagers never stop eating. Her mother is a very good cook, I think she’s looking forward to not having to deal with leftovers any more.” 

He pulled out his phone and scrolled to a picture of a dark-haired woman in a bright orange top, standing behind a tall girl with dark wavy hair, a scruffy-looking band tee shirt under a green-and-yellow plaid top, and an expression of deep annoyance. A young boy smiled broadly next to the girl.

The next picture was similar, but in this one, the girl was laughing. She was the kind of person who laughed with their whole body, Bucky saw. Behind her, Chiki’s wife had both hands over her face, but Bucky could just see the curve of a smile peeking out. The little boy was holding his nose and looked horrified.

“They look great,” Bucky said, grinning at the joy in the picture.

Chiki beamed down at the pictures. “They’re worth everything I do.” He looked up. “Do you have pictures of your family?”

Bucky stilled. “I just got back in touch with my sister. She came out to find me when she saw the news.” He showed Chiki the pictures he’d taken while Becca was visiting and told the story of how they nearly lost Jimmy at Coney Island when he’d decided that he wanted to get Anna a stuffed animal in the arcade.

“I nearly had a heart attack right there,” Bucky said, and Chiki laughed. 

“They never lose the ability to scare the life out of you,” he said, chuckling. “But are you not planning on having children with your bond mate?”

Bucky started to say the same lie he’d been using since he woke up in the hospital, but suddenly he couldn’t stand it. He liked Chiki and wanted to be friends.

“No. I think we’re getting divorced soon.” He turned his soda can around and lifted it, looking at the ring of condensation it had left on the table.

Chiki’s face was blank with shock and Bucky remembered that most people didn’t think soul mates should get divorced. “I mean—”

“Were they—did they hurt you?” Chiki leaned forward and put his hand on Bucky’s left shoulder, squeezing very gently. “Is that the reason you started the…” He waved his other hand between them. “The organization you run?”

Bucky felt unexpected tears rising and he pressed his eyes closed as hard as he could. “No,” he coughed. “No, he didn’t hit me or anything.” He opened his eyes again and tried to smile. “We’re just entirely not well matched. We met too early, I think.” 

Chiki withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I have heard of parents who tried to force a bond by having their children live with their bond mates, but those stories rarely turn out well.” They were silent for a minute, then he continued. “I am very sorry that you have been unhappy.”

Bucky shrugged and rubbed his face. “Thanks, but it’s really not a big deal. The reason I started the program, though, is for my parents. My mom. She could have used something like it.”

“It’s a good legacy,” Chiki said. “Maybe when the block is re-built, you can expand.” He shoved his tablet over to Bucky. “I was looking at the construction companies which have sent in bids…”

Bucky bent over the tablet and pulled out his own, making notes as he went. After a few minutes, Chiki said, “My wife was wondering if you would like to come to dinner.”

Bucky sat up. “I’d love to.” 

On the subway going home, his phone chirped with a text from Chiki giving his address.

_Noor says you are to come next week. She cannot find a fresh lamb until Tuesday._

Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved the phone back in his pocket. It was too hard to try to type a response while he was standing up. It chirped again, just as the doors opened for his stop, so he waited until he’d gotten up to the sidewalk before looking at it. He wanted to remember to ask Chiki if they were teetotal. If not, he’d ask Noé for wine recommendations.

_James. I was hoping we could have dinner together this week. Are you free tonight? Tony_

Bucky caught his breath. He didn’t want to talk about getting divorced, but he also couldn’t keep postponing this.< /p>

_Sure. What time should I be at the Tower?_

He’d threaded his way through the crowd and into his house before he got a response. 

_Meet me at Daniel at 8._

“Fucking Daniel, are you nuts, Tony? Why would we go there to talk about—ugh.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. Tony probably hadn’t even thought about the fact that Daniel was romantic or had some of Bucky’s favorite food. He’d probably had the reservation for himself and Pepper.

_Hell, will Pepper be there? Crap._

Bucky checked his watch, then got moving. If he was going to be way across the city by eight, he’d have to hurry to get everything else he’d scheduled for the day done.

He got off the subway at 59th and Lexington and walked the few blocks to the restaurant, his stomach churning. Before he turned the corner onto E 65th, he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and said out loud, “Say hi to Pepper, none of this is her fault. Then you can just sign whatever Tony’s brought and leave, and they can have their nice meal.” 

One of the people passing shot him a confused glance, but just shrugged when Bucky glared at him. 

The maitre’d appeared to have been waiting for him; as soon as Bucky stepped up to the podium, the man rushed around, saying, “Monsieur Barnes, please follow me.” He led Bucky to a small table near the back, but far from the kitchens. 

Tony was alone, leaning back and watching the room. When he saw Bucky, he half-stood, then sat down slowly, his expression blank. The maitre’d bowed slightly as Bucky sat down, and said, “Your waiter will be right with you.”

Bucky looked around. There were only two chairs at the table. _Fuck. He doesn’t waste time, does he?_ “How soon will Pepper be here?”

Tony looked perplexed. “Pep? She’s…” He trailed off, looking at Bucky. “She’s got other things to do than waste her time on me. I thought we could have the tasting menu today, and then maybe come back in a month and see if they’re doing anything different.” 

Bucky sat back, feeling off-kilter. “Okay?”

“You still prefer scallops to clams, right?” Tony flagged down the waiter – who was already on her way toward their table – and proceeded to rattle off a long order. The waiter nodded and murmured that the first dish would be right out.

Bucky sat stiffly. He just wanted to get this part over with. Having to sit here and have an incredible meal in a beautiful restaurant all while sitting next to Tony, who was sure to be thinking about how fast he could get away, was excruciating. Just as he was opening his mouth to say that he’d remembered something urgent he had to do, Tony turned to him.

“I was looking at the buildings on your street, and I’m not sure that any of the contruction companies bidding on those contracts will be able to do what you need.”

For one horrible moment, Bucky had thought Tony knew where he lived. “Wait, what? How do you know—what do you mean ‘my street’?”

Tony looked shifty. “I had to know where you were. If you were okay. All I knew was that you were alive and I couldn’t—” He broke off, his jaw clenched. “Pepper found your company – you haven’t changed the name.”

“So you went to my office?” Bucky felt like there was something he was missing. “But the last time I was there, nothing had been moved.”

The waiter approached with a tray. She set it down on a folding table and proceeded to lay out several small plates, two wine glasses, a half-sized bottle of wine, and a basket holding a crisp white napkin. “Bon appetit,” she said, and swept away again.

Tony poured the wine for them both and opened the napkin. “Oh,” he said. “Excellent.” He pulled two miniature baguettes from the basket and handed it to Bucky. “These’ll be for the fois gras.” 

They ate, and the conversation drifted to the last time they’d each had French food. 

“And I never want to see chocolate pudding again,” Bucky said, smiling down at the small, exquisite portion of cod with shaved vegetables on his plate. “Hospital food is more punishing than the injury itself.”

Next to him, Tony stilled and Bucky realized that he’d been monopolizing the conversation. He leaned away from Tony and took a bite of the cod. It was delicious.

“Don’t—” Tony said, then coughed. “This reminds me of something Noé used to make, but I don’t remember him shaving the carrots.”

Bucky flicked a glance up at him. “Yeah, it’s like one of the things Noé said his mother used to make. Not as fancy as this, I imagine.” He finished his serving and nodded his thanks to the busboy who industriously cleared that course away before the waiter descended with another. This was delicate portions of duck in a pale orange sauce, with curls of something – Bucky couldn’t tell what – mounded at the side of the small plate.

“I wonder how he’s doing,” Tony said, already cutting into his own duck.

“He’s fine,” Bucky said, startled that Tony would care. “He’s running a restaurant in Beijing. He’s learned some Mandarin, but it’s not enough to get him through the marketplaces, he said.” 

Tony looked fascinated, so Bucky continued, feeling increasingly awkward. “Frank’s there as well, of course, but he doesn’t have much to do.”

“Frank—why’s he in Beijing?”

Bucky pushed his plate away, feeling a little queasy. “They’re soul mates. He and Noé.”

Tony’s hands stopped moving. “They _are_? I’d never have guessed.” 

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He’d figured it out for himself, but he’d seen them every day. He turned his wine glass, now filled with a sunny yellow wine, and sighed. “Tony, when are you going to talk about why we’re here?”

Tony looked thoughtful. “It seemed a shame to get in the way of a nice meal, but I guess we can’t keep putting this off.” He leaned back and propped one ankle over his other knee. “I know that Father wanted to have us both inherit the company, but I never bothered to find out how he divided it. I was thinking that I could give you another, say, five billion and you could get that whole block renovated.”

Bucky felt ill. “I don’t want your money, Tony. I don’t want anything from you.” For one second, he choked on the lie, but he shoved that down and pushed forward. “I just want to know where I have to sign to get this over with.”

Tony looked at him, stiff and emotionless. “I see.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “I—there’s still some work I have to get done on the papers.”

“Call me when they’re ready,” Bucky said, standing up. 

“Wait,” Tony said. “Don’t go. There’s still a couple of courses, and then dessert.” The waiter was standing just far enough to make it easy to pretend they were in private, but Bucky just couldn’t take any more of this charade. 

“I’m certain you can enjoy it on your own,” he said, and left the restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some amazing descriptions of restaurants. Holy cow. 
> 
> [Fine Dining in NYC in 2012](https://www.gq.com/gallery/best-restaurants-nyc-2012)


	17. Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky graduates and life changes again.

1990

Bucky shuffled forward in line, laughing at the antics of the other graduating seniors. He was glad that his name was so early in the alphabet. Sure, he’d have to wait until everyone was called across the stage before he could go see his family, but at least he didn’t have to wait until the end before he got called at all. 

The graduation ceremony was, as he’d expected given how long and dreary Tony’s had been, exceedingly boring. One of his classmates leaned forward from the row of folding chairs behind him and whispered, “They couldn’t have gotten someone more intelligent than this to give a speech? For fuck’s sake, I think this dude got his degree in the 20s.”

Bucky leaned back and said, “Hey, it’s better than the woman they had last year. At least this one’s not racist.”

Finally, it was time for the graduates to start crossing the stage and Bucky felt his excitement grow. He knew that he wasn’t really going to do much with his degrees, but he’d worked hard on them and was proud of himself. Getting a double bachelor’s degrees wasn’t what he’d ever thought he’d be doing when he was a kid. Hell, getting into college wasn’t what he expected. He figured he’d be working on the construction sites his dad worked on.

“James Buchanan Barnes, Bachelor of Arts, History, minor in Middle Eastern Studies, Bachelor of Science, Geology.” The dean of the school smiled at Bucky as he approached. “Good job,” he said, more quietly. “Graduates like you are what make this college strong.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky responded. This was the first time he’d ever met the dean, but it was nice of him to say stuff like that. As he took the rolled up paper pretending to be his actual degree from the man’s hand, they paused for a photo. Then Bucky turned to walk toward the stairs to take his seat again and the back right section of the audience exploded into shouting and screaming and, Bucky was amused and horrified to see, actual small fireworks. 

He dropped his head into his hands, laughing, and then waved back with both arms. “You maniacs,” he muttered. He could see Tony standing on his chair clapping and shouting. The look of pride on his face made Bucky feel like he’d been dipped in warm honey. 

That feeling just grew stronger when the whole thing was over and after he had to explain to the dean and to the dean of his department that he hadn’t known his family was planning on setting off fireworks, and they were small. He’d been afraid, for one flashing moment, that the dean was going to revoke his diploma, but then Howard, Maria, and Tony strolled over and the dean melted in the face of their combined friendliness and financial power.

“You looked so funny when we set off the sparklers,” Tony laughed, throwing his arms around Bucky. Bucky wrapped his own around Tony in return and picked him up to spin around. 

“I did it, I got both degrees,” he said. “I don’t…” He saw Edwin’s smiling face behind Tony and reached out to give him a hug, as well. “Thanks, all of you. Thank you so much.”

“I’d better get at least one of those hugs,” Maria said from behind Frank, who was standing a bit to the side. Noé had been there, Bucky was sure, when he’d walked across the stage, but he couldn’t see him now.

Obie loomed up next to Frank and stepped forward, clouting Bucky on the arm, just at the place where his soul mark was. “Never doubted you for a minute, kid,” he said. “You’re an excellent addition to the Stark legacy.”

Bucky shook his hand, not willing to let Obie’s weird attitude ruin his day.

When all the excitement had died down, and Howard had escaped the dean’s excited clutches, they moved through the crowd. Bucky had to stop several times to hug his classmates, and he happily introduced everyone to Howard and the rest of his family. To his surprise, Tony was cheerful and welcoming and didn’t act angry at all. 

Dinner was at Lutèce and Bucky was amazed to see Noé eating instead of insisting on inspecting the kitchen. Howard had reserved the whole restaurant for the night and invited everyone he knew. At the end of the meal, the staff brought out a tremendous cake with the words: James Barnes, BA BS written on it.

“James Buchanan Bucky Barnes Babs,” Tony whispered to him and Bucky snorted with laughter. 

“That’s just what I need. Another nickname.” He shoved Tony playfully and Tony fell into his seat, grinning.

“I think Bucky Babs is a great name,” Tony said, tipping his nose in the air. He ruined the effect by snorting into laughter at whatever Bucky’s expression was.

After the cake, everyone stood around chatting and it turned into one of Howard’s usual parties. Bucky and Tony sat together at their table, idly poking at the remains of their cake slices and talking about what they were thinking of doing over the summer. 

“I wanted to go back to Europe,” Tony said. “I thought there was a place in the Alps we could go to and see about getting some skiing in. You couldn’t go anywhere over winter break and I know you like to ski.”

Bucky leaned his head back against the seat back. He’d had more wine than he usually did and was feeling a bit dizzy. “That sounds nice. I’m looking forward to not studying anything for at least a month.”

Tony nodded and scooted his chair closer to Bucky’s. He pressed his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I think I had too much of the wine,” he whispered, making Bucky laugh. 

“Me, too. Do you think your father would notice if we went home? It’s not too late. There’ll be taxis.” Bucky sat up to look for Edwin.

Just then, he heard the clear ringing sound of someone tapping a metal utensil against a nearly empty glass. The room fell silent and everyone turned to look at Howard, who stood in the center of the dining room, smiling broadly.

“I’m so glad to have everyone here,” he said, smiling around, “to celebrate my second son’s graduation and entry into adulthood. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years and I couldn’t be prouder of either of my two boys.”

Bucky squirmed as everyone in the room turned to look at him. “I hate this,” he muttered.

“What, having people know that my father likes you more than me?” Tony only sounded a little bitter.  
“No, having all these strangers staring at me. And you’re wrong about your father.”

“That’s why I’m happy to announce the upcoming wedding of my son, Anthony Edward Stark to his soul mate, James Buchanan Barnes,” Howard said. He was beaming at them.

Bucky felt suddenly dead, cold sober.

“Oh shit, no, what?” Tony sounded entirely horrified. “Father, what the hell?”

The party-goers all started cheering and descended upon them like vultures. Bucky’s hand was wrung, his shoulders pounded, his cheeks kissed by floral-scented women, and through it all, the only thing he could hear was Tony’s voice saying ‘no’.

The next morning, Bucky dragged himself to the breakfast table. Howard looked up at him from his seat at the head of the table with a broad grin. “Celebrating too late?” 

Bucky rubbed his face with both hands, then shoved his hands through his hair. “Howard, why are you doing this? We’re not ready to get married.”

“Sure you are.” He sounded amused, but not at all yielding. “I couldn’t wait to marry Maria when we met. I’m only surprised you haven’t been pestering me about it since Tony graduated.”

“Tony and I aren’t—” Bucky took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then blew it out carefully. “We don’t have jobs, we’ve barely both graduated from college. We’re _not ready_.”

“If it’s money, I’ve been meaning to make you a gift when you graduated anyway. I spoke to Watson and he’s opened another money market account for you. I had him deposit a billion dollars in it. You should talk to him about what you want the investment portfolio to look like.”

Bucky collapsed into a chair. “Howard, you don’t need to keep throwing money at me. I’m really not here for the money.”

Howard’s expression changed to compassion. “I know, Bucky. That’s not why I’m giving you the money. I want you to be free, to have the room you need to grow.” He reached out and gripped Bucky’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “You’re not that little twelve-year-old boy any more, kid. This way, you’ll never be in that position again.”

Bucky thought this might be the only time he had the guts to ask this question. “Why’d you pay for me, anyway?”

Howard looked grave. “When your father came to us with his story, I thought it was a scam. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that they knew who Tony’s soul mate was. Usually it’s just something drawn onto the kid, with body paint. Once they went so far as to tattoo some poor kid – I got that little girl put into a better home. But we always had to check, you know?” Howard drummed his fingers on the table and watched Bucky carefully. “Obie thought you were in on the scam, since you seemed so willing when you came into the room. He always sees the negative in any situation, any possibility. It’s why I keep him around, to be honest.”

Bucky grunted. He’d wondered for years why Howard was such good friend with Obie.

“There were a couple more tries, after you moved in with us,” Howard said and then laughed at Bucky’s expression. “We never did tell anyone outside the family who you are, you know. As far as the world knew, you were just some random kid living in the house. I figured five million was a cheap price for the chance to help my son’s soul mate grow up happy, healthy, and well-educated.”

Bucky stood and got a cup of coffee. “So now you’re making us get married.”

“It is what soul mates do, after all.” Howard shifted on his chair. 

“Do you think it’s what we want?”

“I think it’s time you two settled down and quit screwing about.” Bucky wondered if Howard knew that Tony was, in fact, screwing other people. “You’re both adults now, and it’s time you took on adult responsibilities.”

That afternoon, Bucky sat in a window seat in the library; it was on the second story, so he could see up and down the street, and a little into the park, as well. Tony and his best friend from college, James Rhodes, were walking down the path leading to the house. As Bucky watched, Rhodes wrapped an arm around Tony and pulled him close. Tony hugged the other man back, sagging into him. Bucky turned away.

At breakfast the next day, Bucky found Edwin sitting at the table in the breakfast room. Bucky stopped in his tracks. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Edwin sit at this table.

“What’re you doing?”

Edwin raised his eyebrows. “Waiting to have breakfast with you.” He pushed one of the empty plates in Bucky’s direction. “ Get some food. Sit.” 

“I don’t know that—”

“Sit. Down.” 

Bucky sat. He didn’t know where to put his hands. The silence filled the room and Bucky couldn’t look at Edwin’s face. Finally, Edwin shifted in his seat.

“That was poorly planned.”

“What, springing a fucking engagement on both of us?” Bucky winced at the tone in his voice and dug his fingers into his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I just…”

Edwin smiled, but it looked sad. “Yes. Have you and Tony discussed marriage?”

“Tony doesn’t talk to me much.” Bucky felt like crawling under the table to hide. Edwin knew this stuff, why was he making Bucky say it out loud? “Tony isn’t really interested in me. At all. Let alone—” He sucked in a breath, trying to hide how he felt.

“I’m not certain you are correct in that, but that is something you and Tony need to work on together.”

“Tony’ll never work on anything with me,” Bucky mumbled, giving in to the desire to rest his head on the table.

Edwin sighed. “I had other ideas about how this relationship should have been handled from the beginning, but that’s not relevant any more. We’re here now, so perhaps we can find a way to make things work as they currently exist.”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and Tony slouched into the room. He wouldn’t look Bucky in the eye. Bucky buried his hands in his lap and stared at the edge of the table as Tony moved around the room. He was surprised when a mug full of coffee thunked to the table in front of him.

“Here,” Tony said. “Drink up. If we’re going to get married, we might as well be awake for it.”

Bucky looked up at him, but he was glowering at Edwin. “Thank you,” Bucky said, taking a sip. The warmth and caffeine helped. Tony had added sugar, which Bucky didn’t usually like, but right now it felt like a gift.

Tony sat down next to him, his own cup of coffee nearly full. He took a gulp, then set the cup down solidly. “I tried to talk Father out of this, but he’s dead set on us getting married immediately. Since we’re stuck doing this, we should set some ground rules.” He shot a sideways glance at Bucky, who tried to look as if he had anything coherent to add. “I know neither of us wants to do this,” Tony said, his voice expressionless, and Bucky felt his breath catch.

Hearing Tony say that he didn’t want to get married made Bucky realize that _he did._ He wanted to have a big wedding, with lots of happy people, and then have a debauched honeymoon somewhere warm and exotic, and then have a long, contented marriage with Tony. He could work on his soul mate projects and Tony could do… whatever it was that Tony was doing for Stark Enterprises, and maybe one day they could adopt a couple of kids.

He pressed his eyes closed hard, then took a deep breath, shoved his own hopeless wishes down deep where he could ignore them, and said, “Right. So how are we going to get through this?”


	18. Try Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky figures that if he just gives in to Tony one last time, it'll all be over.

2012  
Bucky’s phone chirped and he blindly poked it. “Hello,” he said, eyes still fixed on his laptop screen. He just needed to get through the last two applications and then he could quit for the day.

“James,” Tony said, sounding cheerful. “I was hoping we could have lunch tomorrow. I’ve got reservations at—” 

Bucky sighed. “Tony, why won’t you just admit that you want a divorce? Why all the invitations?” He had a sudden, horrifying thought. “What are you softening me up for?”

Bucky head Tony’s breath catch, then he said, his voice even peppier than before, “Hey, none of that! No softening required. And I haven’t admitted it because I don’t want that.” There were clattering sounds and he grunted. “I do want to eat lunch with you. Or dinner. We could do dinner. I found an intersting little Italian place near where you’re staying.”

Bucky froze. “Where I’m—what Italian place?”

“I knew you’d want Italian food. It’s around the corner from that horri—cozy little flat you’re in.”

“You mean the place on the West Side? Oh, I’m not—which restaurant? I can meet you there in… an hour?” Bucky hated that he couldn’t stop giving Tony what he wanted.

“I can do an hour. Are you far away right now? I could have you picked up? I could come and get you.” Tony sounded eager and Bucky flinched back a little. 

“I’ll get myself there.” Bucky tried to make his voice sound less tight. “Thanks for the offer.”

It wasn’t until Tony hung up that Bucky realized he’d agreed to meet Tony today when Tony’d originally wanted to meet the next day.

“Dammit,” he groaned. “And now I won’t have time to—” He stopped. Tony wasn’t usually on time. If he hurried, and managed to catch the right train, he could still be… “Fuck. He never said which restaurant.”

Just then his phone buzzed. 

_From: Tony  
I forgot to say. I thought Pappardella looked good. See you soon._

Bucky bent forward over the keyboard and went back to hunting-and-pecking.

Nearly an hour and a half later, Bucky jogged down the street toward Pappardella, then paused as he saw Tony’s limousine parked half a block from the restaurant. Happy was sitting in the front passenger seat, reading something on his phone. He looked up as Bucky bent to smile through the window.

“Mr. Barnes,” Happy said, stepping from the car. “It’s good to see you.” He reached out and pulled Bucky into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” His face ran through a complicated mixture of emotions. “I mean, well. Mostly okay. _Are_ you okay?”

Bucky laughed. “At least it wasn’t my right arm, right?” 

Happy looked pained. “I guess. Has Mr. Stark said anything about fixing that for you?”

“What, my arm? No, why would he?” Bucky glanced down the street and saw Tony standing at the restaurant door. “Oh, and there he is. I should go. It’s great to see you, Happy. I hope you’re not too overworked.”

“No, he’s been staying around town, mostly.” Happy settled back into the car seat. 

“Should I have the restaurant send you something?” 

Happy shook his head. “No, I already ordered from Mr. Stark. I think it’s probably ready. He’ll send it out when it is.” He smiled again, but his eyes looked sad. “He misses you.”

“Right.” Bucky sighed. It was good of Happy to lie to him, but not very realistic. “See you later.”

Tony was bouncing on his toes as Bucky walked up. “I thought you said an hour.” He looked happy and Bucky wondered which of his chaotic experiments had gone well.

“I had work to do,” Bucky said. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

Tony sighed and led the way into the restaurant. At the hostess station, he leaned in and said to the short woman there, “When the _melanzane alla parmigiano_ comes out, it’s for the guy in the limo, down the block. He’ll need a full setting as well. Thanks.” Then he brought Bucky to a table in the back, with several candles in a bundle and a bottle of white wine in an ice bucket.

“I know it’s silly, but I thought we could have something nice. It’s been a couple of weeks and we haven’t had a fight. We should celebrate.”

Bucky snorted. “That’s a low bar, Tony. There’ve been whole years we didn’t fight.”

Tony looked up at Bucky while he was pouring the wine. “Yeah, but years when we’re almost never on the same side of the country don’t count.” He set one glass in front of Bucky and lifted his own. “To no more pointless fights.” 

Bucky shook his head, but tapped his glass against Tony’s, and took a sip. “This is good.”

Tony nodded. “It’ll go with the seafood I ordered.”

“You ordered without me?”

“Don’t fight with me – I was waiting for you and I thought you’d never get here. I was worried you’d stand me up.” Tony did look like he’d been a little worried, but Bucky just rubbed his face with his hand.

“I—” Tony fiddled with his fork. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping I could ask about your arm.”

“It’s an arm. Got a hand and elbow and everything.” Bucky wiggled his right arm, knowing he was being petty, but he hated the way Tony – taking after his father – would just do things without asking first and expect other people to go along with it.

Tony flinched slightly, making Bucky pause. “Sorry, I just wanted to know how my husband lost his fucking arm and if you’re okay.” Tony didn’t sound sullen, which was what Bucky expected. He sounded sad.

“I’m fine.” Bucky took another sip of wine and smiled up at the waitress as she brought a platter with whipped ricotta cheese, honey, and herbs and a basket of soft rolls to the table. He reached for the bread, set a piece on his plate, then paused. 

“Please.” Tony’s hands were clenched together so tightly his knuckles were white. “Let me help.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say he could do it, but the fight slid out of him and he slumped. “Fine. Can I have it cut in half and—”

“You want as much cheese spread on the halves as possible. I _have_ known you for nearly all my life.” Tony’s voice was light, but his expression stayed tense. “I’m sorry about, well. About everything, I guess.” He handed Bucky’s bread plate back. 

“I woke up in the hospital,” Bucky said, “and my arm was already gone. They said it was crushed beyond repair and that amputation had been the only choice. I—” He remembered them asking if he had a bondmate, and shoved that memory away. “I didn’t really understand what was going on for at least another day or two.”

Tony had spread cheese and honey on a torn piece of his own roll, but he put it down on the plate instead of eating it. “Did they… no, it’s too late.” He thoughtfully took a bite, and reached for another roll, cutting it in half and spreading the ricotta on it, then dropping the halves on Bucky’s now empty plate. “Have you looked into prosthetics yet?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s a bit high for a nice, sensible hook, and I’ve never liked those stiff plastic fakes. I think I’d rather just go without.”

Tony pursed his lips. “I guess.” He refilled their glasses. “Are you really living in that tiny apartment? I know Father gave you money. Hell, he gave you money as soon as you moved in.”

Bucky paused, bread halfway to his mouth. “He did give me money, but not until I graduated high school.” 

Their waitress came back with a big bowl of pasta with large chunks of different types of seafood swirled through it, which she placed in front of Tony. She then set a bowl with wide noodles drenched in vivid orange-red sauce and piled high with sausage and peas in front of Bucky.

“Thank you,” Tony said, then smirked at Bucky. “I didn’t order you the seafood.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Tony lifted a shoulder, halfway through swirling a huge amount of pasta onto a fork. “Tit for tat?” He stabbed a shrimp to secure the noodles and shoved the whole mess in his mouth. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and addressed his own meal. _Having a prosthetic, even a plastic fake, would make this easier. At least the noodles are wide._

They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Tony said, “I was talking to Cap the other day—”

“You know he hates it when you call him that.”

Tony looked stiff, then huffed. “Fine. I was talking to _Steven_ and he said that it might be nice for everyone to get together for a barbeque.” He speared a chunk of lobster and turned his fork in his hand. “I could have someone come and pick you up, you wouldn’t even need to deal with the crowds at Grand Central.”

“Tony, Steve never said that – he wouldn’t call anything a barbeque. If you want to have a bunch of your friends over and grill a ton of meat, go for it.” He ate a bite and washed it down with the wine, which did go well with the tomatoes and fennel in the sausage.

“Look, would you just come home? I know we’re—I know things aren’t good right now, but I really want to make them better.” Tony had given up the pretense of eating and was just staring angrily at Bucky’s wine glass.

Bucky sighed. “Tony, that’s not… the Tower isn’t…” Bucky was going to say ‘the Tower isn’t my home’, but he knew that the statement both wasn’t exactly true and would hurt Tony. “We already tried this once, and it didn’t go well.”

Tony flushed, then turned pale. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to say that.” He reached toward Bucky, then let his hand fall to the table. Bucky noticed that Tony hadn’t said that he hadn’t _meant_ what he’d said.

“Yes. But you did say it. And we both know it’s true. It’s been true since the first day we met.” Bucky felt calm. He knew he should be screaming and crying, he knew that this was exactly the thing that he’d been fighting ever since he realized that Tony would never want him, not even though they were soul mates. But somehow, at this very moment, all he felt was empty. “So why keep pretending?”

Tony looked lost. “Because I’m not—” He pressed his lips together. “How about this. How about you give me one last chance – I mean really truly last chance. If we can’t make it, I’ll give you your divorce.”

Bucky stared at Tony. He didn’t actually want a divorce. He wondered what Tony would getting out of trying again. He didn’t like the idea of Pepper forcing Tony into it; she’d been so helpful when Tony had been kidnapped. She’d been the only one who’d really listened to Bucky when he insisted that someone needed to go find Tony. 

At the time, he’d been too distracted by Tony’s loss to think about it, but later, he’d wondered at Pepper’s cooperation. She’d never warmed to him, the way none of Tony’s friends had ever warmed to him, and he’d decided that she loved Tony the way he did, so she was willing to be friendly to someone who was willing to go out on a limb for the man. 

“I’m glad Pepper got Rhodes to listen to me,” he said, without thinking.

Tony stilled, his expression suddenly shuttered. “Me, too.” He leaned forward and propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. “I have always wondered how that happened. She wouldn’t say anything about it and all Rhodey’ll say is that you’re not what he expected.”

“He did seem surprised,” Bucky said. Then he saw the busboy hovering and remembered that they were sitting in a restaurant, in public, discussing something that Tony had never wanted to talk about. He leaned back, lifting his empty bowl to help the busboy clear the table.

Tony startled, then handed over his own bowl. When the table was cleared, Tony said, “They don’t have desserts here, but I thought we might go down to Van Leeuwen and get waffle cones.” 

“You know I can’t resist rocky road ice cream,” Bucky said and ignored the way Tony’s little smile made his chest warm.

When they were outside the restaurant, Tony said, “I mean it. I want to try again.”

Bucky looked down at him. He was walking on Bucky’s left, just a little closer than Bucky expected. “Tony, don’t you want to just… get on with your life?”

Tony flinched. “You’re my—” He caught his breath and stopped walking, turning to face Bucky. “Bucky. James. Please. Come back to the Tower and let me try again.”

Bucky sighed. He couldn’t ever say ‘no’ to Tony, not really, no matter how much he knew this wasn’t a good idea.

“Fine. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”

“You could come with me now—no I see that won’t work. What’ll you need to bring with you? Will you need a truck? No, I saw that place, you barely had anything there. How did that work, anyway, you have all that stuff in the Tower, I saw that you left it all, but I couldn’t—” He stopped, covered his mouth with his hand, and said, “Great. Tomorrow’s great. I’ll make sure your floor is clean.” After a few more steps, he said, softly, “JARVIS misses you.”


	19. Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets married.

1990

“And if you could just sign here, and here, and here,” the lawyer said, pointing to various points on the stack of forms in front of both Bucky and Tony. “Thank you. Also, there are several places on the next page, and then we’ll move to the back.”

Bucky sighed and bent forward. His JB had started out neat and legible, but after nearly half an hour of steady initialing and signing, it had become an indecipherable scrawl. He’d been surprised that Howard had them signing any sort of pre-nup, but figured it was a sensible choice. Before they’d signed any of it, the lawyers had gone over the whole thing, pointing out all the clauses and the various get-out-quick aspects. By the time they were given pens, Bucky was sure they’d thought of everything.

Finally, they initialed the last paragraph and signed the bottom. Bucky tossed his pen down and shook his hand out. Tony, whose signature was wide and swirling, grinned at him.

“So, what’s next?” he asked. “D’you think Father picked out china as well, or are we going to get to do that ourselves?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “My money’s on your mother, actually.” He thought for a second, then said, “Though, if we could have anyone pick out stuff for us, I’d like Noé to choose what kitchen things we get.”

Tony nodded, watching the lawyer gather up the various copies and stuff them into different folders. “That’s a good idea. Would he be willing?”

Bucky lifted a shoulder. “I could ask.” 

Behind them, Edwin coughed gently. “I believe your next appointment is with the pastry chef.” 

Bucky fell forward and let his head hit the table. “Edwin, I just…” He rolled his head to the side and peered up at Tony from the corners of his eyes. “Tony. Chocolate cake with chocolate icing and raspberry filling?” Tony smirked down at him, so Bucky sat up and turned to Edwin. “We say chocolate cake and choco—”

Edwin smiled. “Yes. I think that can be arranged. Shall I call for you in two hours, or do you want to come along anyway and taste the different cakes?”

Bucky stood up sharply and followed Tony to the door. “Why didn’t you say we were going to get to eat the cakes now? That was vital information.”

Two weeks later, Bucky lay in bed and hoped they’d finished going over all the different things they ‘needed’ to have to get married. He was sure his parents hadn’t had fifteen different types of glassware and they certainly hadn’t had three different guest books, each with their own style of font and matching pen. 

He got up and, after getting a cup of coffee, walked down the hall to the room he still thought of as ‘the museum’ and sat down in front of the painting of the picnicking family. The statues had changed – he knew this was mostly Maria’s room, and she’d gone on a serious bender for modernist sculpture – but she’d never sold the little painting and he wondered if that was because she liked it, she’d forgotten she had it, or if Edwin had told her that _he_ liked it, so she kept it. 

It was still soothing to look at. The light fell softly onto the people and they sat, all together, relaxed and content. He wished he was there, sometimes. 

“Well ladies,” he said, finishing his coffee and standing back up, feeling a little sad, “I’m going to be moving out again. I hope I’ll see you when I come back to visit.”

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and swung around, not sure he wanted Tony to have heard him talking to a painting.

“I love that painting,” Maria said, stepping forward from the corridor. “It’s so peaceful.” She came up to him and slid an arm around his waist. “Jarvis has said that you like it, as well.” 

He hugged her back. “I saw it the day I moved in. I thought it was the nicest thing you had.”

She laughed. “Oh dear, some of the statues that Howard bought were terrible. All those weird metal… things.” She smiled up at him. “I hope you have a place for it in your new home.”

He pulled away and turned to her. “Wait. What do you mean?”

She ghosted her hand along the edge of the gilt frame. “I’m giving it to you, as a wedding present. I know Howard’ll have something else for you, but I wanted to give you a bit of peace and beauty. Just for you.” She smiled, but this time it looked sad. “Something we can share, just the two of us.”

_Oh._ He set his cup down and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, Maria. I’ll cherish it.” She rested her head on his chest and he felt something deep inside crack. He’d never hug his own mother like this. 

After another moment, she pulled away and, half-laughing, ran her fingertips under her eyes. “So silly.”

He bent and looked her directly in the eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re the best.”

She huffed and slid her hand through his arm. “Come on then, let’s get lunch. You can tell me all about the apartment you and Tony are going to buy.”

“As if you don’t know more about it than I do. You just got done talking to the decorators, didn’t you?”

They went to lunch and, before they were halfway through, Howard came bustling in. He sat down on Maria’s lap, then when she shoved at him, stood up, pulled her up, and sat down under her. She raised her eyebrows at him, then shrugged and went back to eating her lemon and ricotta pasta.

“Hey there, kid,” Howard said. “I was hoping to find you. I wanted to talk to you about wedding presents.”

Bucky caught Maria’s glance and they both snickered. Howard just rolled his eyes and ploughed on. 

“I was looking around at property and—”

“You already bought us the apartment,” Bucky said.

“Jeez, Bucky, that’s not a wedding present.” At Bucky’s expression, Howard gestured vaguely. “Well, alright, sure, I guess it is. But I meant, a present just for you. And I was looking at places over in Brooklyn.” 

Bucky set his fork down. “Ooohkay?”

Howard looked smug. “There’s a couple of buildings available, and I thought I’d give you enough to buy, well. A couple. Just in case you find one you like.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I got some notes from the real estate agent I was talking to. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.” He pulled out a sheaf of papers from his inside pocket and handed them over.

Bucky unfolded them and started reading. The third one down was the building he’d grown up in. It was in bad shape; the brickwork was crumbling in a few places, and the whole street looked tired. When he checked the price, he swallowed. _I can afford that. I could use some of the money from what Howard gave me when I graduated and—_

“So,” Howard said, watching him closely, “I was thinking I’d give you another five hundred million. If you shove that into your investment account, you’d get a loan, easy.”

Bucky stared at him. “Hell, Howard, with that kind of money, I could just buy them outright.”

“Sure, but that wouldn’t be sensible. If you take out the loan, you can leverage it against—” 

Bucky lifted a hand to stop Howard’s flood of chat. _Oh, that’s where Tony gets it from._ “Howard. I—this is.” He pressed his lips together and tried again. “Thank you. I’m very grateful, for this and for everything else you’ve given me. Um.” He tried to think of a way to express what he wanted to say. 

“You didn’t need to take me in. You could have let me grow up at home – I mean, with my father. I know that having another kid wasn’t what you’d planned on. All that education and time, those are enough gifts. You don’t need to keep giving me things.”

Maria’s face fell. “Oh, but darling, we _want_ to give you things. It makes me—” She glanced up at Howard, who looked thoughtful. “It makes _us_ happy to give you things. And to give Anthony things. We want you to have everything you could ever dream of.” She reached out and took his hand. “Bucky—James—you and Anthony are our future. Helping you set up a happy future is what we want to do.”

Howard leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table, hard. “James. The point of having all of this is to give it to you and Tony. There’s no point in any of all of this if we don’t pass it on. Making money is easy. It just sort of makes itself. But without a family, it’s just money.” He sat back. “Plus, it’s a nice idea – buying your old place. You could fix it up. Make it nice.”

The day of the wedding, Bucky got dressed in the tuxedo he’d spent two hours being fitted into and then stopped at the bow tie. “Fuck. I can’t…” He leaned on his hands against the dresser and let his head sag down. “I wish this were real. I wish he wanted me.” He tipped his head back and sucked in a deep breath, holding it until his lungs burned. “Wishing ain’t got me anywhere.”

He stood up, shook out his arms, ran his hands through his hair, then marched down the hall to the kitchen. It was a screaming mess, but somehow Noé saw him stick his head through the door.

“Quoi?”

Bucky held up the ends of his bow tie. “I don’t…”

Noé laughed. “Come here. I can not believe that you have been allowed to be so incompetant. I could tie my own tie by the time I was six.” Someone in the chaos of the kitchen laughed and Noé sent a glower over his shoulder. He tugged on the bow he’d taken about half a minute to create, and then stood back, his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, to look him up and down.

“Ahh, you are all adult now, no need for parents.” He pulled Bucky in for a hug, which Bucky returned, and then stood him back up. “Now go and find someone to do something with that mess you call hair.”

Bucky laughed and went to find Maria.

Finally, he was standing at the side door to the hall Howard had rented for the wedding, Edwin standing behind him. 

“James,” Edwin said, his voice low and warm. “I am very glad you came to us. It’s been wonderful having you in the family.” He pulled Bucky in for a long hug and Bucky was amazed, and somehow heartened, to find that he was still shorter than Edwin. _It’s nice to still be able to look up to him._

Edwin stepped back, coughed slightly, and carefully adjusted Bucky’s suit to perfection. “There. Now go out there and marry the man you love.” At Bucky’s shocked look, he just smiled. “Just because I’m older than you doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

Bucky snorted, and with that, the door opened in front of him and he heard the music that was his cue to step out in front of everyone Howard had ever known. It all turned into a blur as he walked down toward Tony, who was also walking in from a side door across the hall, Howard smiling behind him. Bucky and Tony met in the middle and turned to face the officiant, a short woman with shining silver hair held up in a simple bun. 

As she led them through the ceremony, Bucky snuck glances at Tony. His tuxedo was a deep red color, and he’d insisted on a gold bow tie. Surprisingly, though it wasn’t at all traditional, it did look good on Tony.

He shifted on his feet as the officiant spoke, and it wasn’t until it was time for them to say their vows, that he stilled. He turned and Bucky was startled to see that he looked earnest and a little desperate.

“I’ve known you almost all my life. You’ve been a steady support, a thorn in my side, and the warm feeling in my heart for as long as I’ve been alive. I am excited to start a new life with you, one in which we can grow up together.” At the laugh that flickered through the audience, he huffed and said, “Well, grow more up together.” He reached out for Bucky’s hand and slid a white-gold band with a single diamond embedded into it onto Bucky’s ring finger. “I promise to be the very best soul mate for you.”

Bucky gaped at him. At the rehearsals, Tony had refused to admit what he’d planned on saying. After a long moment, Tony started to look a little stretched, and Bucky shook himself.

“Tony. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, spending time growing up with you and getting to be close to my soul mate. I don’t know what our future holds, but I’m glad I get to discover that future with you.” He took Tony’s hand and placed the matching ring onto Tony’s ring finger. _I love you. I wish I could tell you that every day._ “I promise to put our needs together ahead of my personal needs.”

They stepped forward and kissed, and the sound of the audience clapping faded to soft noise.


	20. Back at the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes back to the Tower. Things aren't as good as they could be.

2012

Bucky stepped off the escalator into the hubbub of Grand Central Terminal and plunged into the crowd. He’d never admit it to anyone, especially Tony, but he loved the way the Terminal fed into the Tower. When he’d first moved in, he used to spend hours sitting in one of the cafés people-watching. When Steve had moved in, just after Tony had found out that Fury was keeping him stuck in a tiny apartment on the Lower East Side, he used to come down and sit with Bucky, asking questions every so often.

Bucky didn’t know why Steve had chosen him to befriend; he’d expected Steve and Tony to hit it off, even with Tony’s weirdness about his father’s old friend. He never minded the company, though, and enjoyed the time they’d spend together. He’d especially enjoyed making Steve drink increasingly silly coffee drinks and teasing him about being a time-traveler.

As he walked past the café, he saw Steve sitting at their usual table, looking intently through the window. He saw Bucky and lit up, waving broadly.

“Bucky,” Steve said, eyes carefully on Bucky’s face and away from his missing left arm. “It’s so good to see you again.” He reached out and pulled Bucky into a hug. Bucky dropped his bag and wrapped his arm around Steve, surprised at how much he’d missed the other man. After a few moments, Steve stepped back, his hands still on Bucky’s shoulders, and looked carefully into Bucky’s eyes. “Tony didn’t force you to come back, did he?”

Bucky caught his breath. “Uh.” He sat down at the table and huffed a laugh when Steve held out a cup. 

“Just the way you like it,” he said. “I know that your relationship with Tony is none of my business, but, well.” Steve smoothed a hand down the back of his head. “But he takes after his father, and Howard could—”

“Howard never took ‘no’ for an answer in his life,” Bucky said and Steve looked startled, then relaxed. 

“Right. So I just wanted to check to make sure that you’re not being forced into anything against your will.”

Bucky shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Not against my will so much as against my better judgement, maybe. I am an adult, no matter how much we all look like children to someone of your advanced age.”

Steve snorted just as he was taking a sip of his own coffee and Bucky grinned. Steve shook his head as he mopped up the table and his shirt front. 

“You little jerk,” he said. His smile fell away, then and he said, “I didn’t know you two were soul mates.”

Bucky leaned back and pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I know. Tony never wanted to tell anyone. It’s okay.” He saw the crushed expression on Steve’s face and sighed. “All right, it’s not _okay_ , but it’s not terrible the way you’re thinking it is.”

“Your soul mate—your _married_ soul mate—was sleeping with other people and wouldn’t tell people that you were soul mates. How could that not be terrible?” Steve’s hand was close to crushing his paper cup and Bucky reached forward to touch the back of his hand. “What—oh, thanks.” Steve put the cup down carefully and laced his hands together. “Just, I don’t even get to _have_ a soul mate and he’s throwing his away.”

Bucky let his gaze drift out to the passing crowd, no smaller now than when he’d come up the escalator. He saw movement at the small, hidden door to the private elevator to the Tower and winced. “Steve. My relationship with Tony has always been complicated. We met when we were far too young and I think it screwed up the bond. Sometimes these things just don’t work out.”

Steve’s jaw was set and Bucky wondered why anyone thought that he’d be a pushover. He and Tony were two of the most bull-headed people he knew. 

“But—” Steve started and Bucky held up a hand.

“Look. We can talk about this, but right now Tony’s about a minute away from coming through that door and I don’t think any of us want to have this conversation _here_.”

“There you are,” Tony said, coming up to the table and propping his hands on his hips. “I thought you were going to be here hours ago.”

Bucky smiled. “There was a welcoming party with coffee.” He lifted his cup and drank the last of it. “Anyhow, I bet there’s something delicious to eat upstairs.” He stood up and picked up his bag. 

Tony shifted on his feet, then surged forward and threw his arms around Bucky’s waist, pressing him into a fast hug. He stepped back and cleared his throat. “I had them make lunch, yes. And I set up a new gym room on your floor. I talked to a physiotherapist and they told me what would be the best set up. I was thinking that you could bring your physio in as well, if you’re still going to one.” He glanced over his shoulder as they got into the elevator. 

The elevator opened upstairs and Tony stepped forward. Bucky followed him and paused as Steve didn’t. 

“You’re not coming?”

Steve looked uncomfortable. “I’ll see you downstairs in the living room.” He lifted a hand to wave goodbye and leaned forward, pressing the button to go back down. 

Bucky turned around and then blinked. They weren’t where he’d expected – the elevators usually just opened directly into the living area of each apartment, but this time, they’d come out into a small foyer, with a table, a small window, and a large, pretty wooden door. Tony stood at the door watching him, his expression closed.

“Where are we?” Bucky peeked out the window; they were up at the apartment levels. 

Tony’s expression sank further into neutrality. “I remember you saying something about not liking the way the apartments were so open. So. I thought about it and it wasn’t hard to have the entryway redesigned. I had the door built special for this,” he gestured at the door, “and after that, the rest of it just sort of fell into place.”

Bucky stepped closer to look at the door. It was carved and after a moment, Bucky realized that it was carved to look like the entryway to the old house, Howard’s mansion. He huffed a laugh and Tony smiled at his feet. “Well, it’s certainly imposing,” Bucky said.

Tony handed him a key. “Here. It’s the only one. I thought you’d, well. I thought you’d prefer to have an actual key. Like it’s your own place. Not that you need to keep me out—”

Bucky felt his pleasure at the new entryway sour a bit. _You don’t have to tell me that you won’t want to come in. I already know that._

“Well?” Tony bounced on his toes. “Aren’t you going to open the door?”

“Right.” Bucky jolted into movement and shoved the key into the lock. When he turned it, there was an interesting thunking that sounded like several different things moving and shifting all at once. He turned to look at Tony, brows drawn in. “What kind of a lock is this?”

Tony grinned at him. “Come on, come on, open it and look at the other side!”

Bucky raised his brows and did, stepping through and trying to ignore the way Tony pressed against him momentarily as they fit through the narrow gap. The back of the door was clear and through the glass, Bucky saw that the lock was made of many different gears moving together. 

“Give me the key?” Tony said, then waved his hands when Bucky looked at him. “I just want to show you what it looks like.”

Bucky handed him the key and he wrapped his arm around the door, fitting the key into the lock again and turning it. The gears spun and shifted and a weight moved from one height to the bottom of the door, landing with a soft thump. 

“Huh,” Bucky said, smiling slowly. “That’s really cool. Is there a way to move the gears without unlocking the door?”

Tony smirked and handed him the key back. “Yeah, I thought you’d want that, so I added this part.” He pressed a button in the side of the glass and a different set of gears spun and shifted, tugging a gold pendulum from one side of the assembly to the other.

Bucky laughed. “That’s great, Tony. Thank you.”

Tony looked pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” His arms shifted but he just shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked forward onto his toes. “Wanna get lunch? I had them bring sushi and thai food, and I think there might be some of the beer from up in Vermont that you like.”

Bucky’s stomach grumbled and Tony smiled. “I could definitely murder some sushi right about now.”

Downstairs, the food filled the dining table in the living area and everyone was standing around chatting. Before Bucky got three steps into the room, Pepper stepped up to him, her face distraught.

“James,” she said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’ve come back. I was so worried about you when we couldn’t find you.” She lifted her arms and then froze, suddenly tense and anxious. Bucky stepped forward and hugged her and was amazed at how tightly she held him. 

_It’s nice that she is so kind about the fact that the guy she’s in a relationship is already married. She’s good for him._ He saw Tony look tense and turn away and let go quickly. He didn’t want Tony to think that Pepper liked him better than she did Tony.

The second she let go, stepping aside to brush the dampness off her cheeks, Bruce stepped in, hugging him just as tightly as she had. He let go and held Bucky’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Don’t do that again,” he said firmly. “No disappearing.”

Behind him, Tony muttered, “Like you can talk.” 

Bucky then got passed from hug to hug, startled at how much the group seemed to have missed him. When he stumbled out of Clint’s unexpectedly gropey hug – Clint didn’t usually grab his ass – he saw Tony watching them all, his expression definitely sour. 

“If you’re entirely done,” he said, “I think Bucky is hungry.”

That evening, Bucky shut and locked his new door behind himself. For one minute, he stood still, eyes closed, just breathing. He hadn’t been here in so long, but it still felt more like home than his place in Brooklyn, no matter how much Brooklyn was where he’d spent his earliest years. Something about being close to Tony, he thought. With a big sigh, he picked up his bag from where he’d dropped it when Tony had given him the key, and dragged himself down the hallway to his bedroom.

The bed was made with what looked like new bedding, and the whole place had the slightly sharp smell of a space which had just been cleaned within an inch of its life. He set his bag on the chair he’d put in front of the window and stripped his clothes off, dropping them into the empty laundry hamper he knew he’d left filled with clothes.

After a long, hot shower, he pulled on a terrycloth robe and wandered back out to the living room. It looked like Tony had taken the space for the foyer from there, but he’d had bookcases built into the interior side of it, and filled them with both of The Expanse novels and a few other series. There were odds and ends of art on the shelves as well. 

Bucky turned on the coffee maker in the kitchen and drifted to the big windows overlooking Manhattan while it hissed and sputtered to itself. The city looked almost like it hadn’t been damaged at all, although there were a few darker smudges. 

Lunch had turned to dinner and the whole group stayed chatting and eating. Bucky watched as the various smaller groups formed and felt himself standing on the outside, but something about the way he’d been greeted made that feel less lonely than it had when he’d lived in the Tower at first. Finally, he’d put his dishes into the communal dishwasher and gone upstairs on his own, wondering why he’d agreed to come back at all.

He’d seen Natasha watching him and wondered when she was going to come upstairs and pester him in person. He hoped it wouldn’t be tonight. He felt wiped out and like he’d been stretched too thin. 

When he had a cup of coffee, he set it down on the side table near the couch and walked to the new shelves. He’d wanted to read the Expanse books and hadn’t managed to find time, but now seemed like a great chance to start. At the bookshelves, he paused. What he’d taken for a glass globe bookend was, in fact, the set of snowglobes he’d gotten for Maria in Paris. 

“ _Oh_. Oh how did… Tony?” He touched them gently, letting his fingers linger on their cool surface. “When did you get these?” Bucky pressed his lips together against the unexpected surge of tears – he still missed Maria – and tugged the book he wanted off the shelf. 

An hour and a half later, he set the book aside, half finished, and stood up to stretch. It was bedtime.

Just then, there was a knock at the door and he spun around. _Natasha. Just when I’m least ready. Of course._

He swung the door open, knowing that if he didn’t, Natasha would just keep knocking all night. “Oh my god, Nat, you couldn’t have waited?”

“Are you expecting Natasha? I’ll tell her.” Tony sounded bitter and sharp and Bucky recoiled. “No, wait,” Tony continued, his tone now desperate. “I’m sorry, you can expect whoever you want. I’m sorry, don’t… don’t close the door. I just wanna talk to you. Can we talk? Please?” He swayed and Bucky realized that he was drunk.

He sighed. “Oh Tony, does Pepper know you’re doing this?” He leaned on the door jamb.

“Pepper? Why would she care?” He waved his arms wildly. “I just, can I come in? I don’t do, you’re here, I thought you’d never, I won’t stay long.” He staggered a bit and Bucky stepped forward to catch him. 

“Sure, come on.” Bucky stepped back, Tony leaning heavily on his right side. He paused to make sure they weren’t going to fall over, then let the door swing closed. “I was about to go to bed, Tony. Are you sure you want to talk right now?”

Tony spun around and looked out over the living room. “You found the books, good.” He walked to the couch, his walk liquid and unsteady, then fell backwards over the arm of the couch. “I haven’t done this in so long. I wasn’t going to do it at all, did I tell you? I stopped drinking.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. “That’s not what it looks like.”

Tony rolled onto his side, then fell off the couch and stood back up. “Really. I stopped when you left. Why did you leave? I haven't been drunk since you left the Tower, I hate the way I feel when I'm drunk.”

He stepped closer to Bucky. “But you’re here again. I missed you. I miss you. I just… all I ever wanted was for you to love me and you just… can’t you? Please?” 

Bucky felt his skin prickle. “My feelings were never the problem,” he choked out. 

Tony slid up against Bucky, pressing his whole body to Bucky’s. Bucky could feel that Tony was hard and his own cock started to take an interest, but having sex with drunk Tony never turned out well for either of them. He tried to shove Tony back, but Tony’d latched on with both arms and wasn’t going to let go.

“Come on, baby, you know it always feels so good when we’re together,” he murmured into Bucky’s neck and Bucky shivered at the feel of his soft breath. “You know you want it, I want it, let’s just…” He slid an arm into Bucky’s robe and snaked it down to Bucky’s cock, which was now definitely filling up. 

The touch was electrifying, and for one moment, Bucky stood frozen, his body and his soul bond shaking with the need to return the touch, to reach out and let Tony have his way, but then he gritted his teeth and shoved hard.

Tony staggered back, his expression broken. “But every time I try, you still don’t love me the way I love you. Bucky, I love you so much, why don’t you love me?”

Bucky heaved in a breath, shocked to the core at what Tony was saying. It would be everything he wanted, if Tony hadn’t been so drunk he could barely stand on his own. 

“Tony, you don’t know what you’re saying. Come on, let’s get you upstairs so you can sleep this off.” He put an arm around Tony’s shoulders and walked them back through the door and into the foyer. There, he said, “JARVIS, can you please bring an elevator to my floor and then take Tony upstairs to his floor?”

“Of course. May I say that I am pleased you have returned.” JARVIS’ voice was clear and warm and, for one horrible second on top of all the other miserable things, Bucky missed Edwin so much he thought he might start crying. 

“Thank you,” he said, after clearing his throat. 

The elevator door slid open and Bucky deposited Tony, eyes now closed and body nearly limp, into it. “You’ll see that he gets off safe, right?”

“Certainly,” JARVIS said, and the doors slipped closed again.

Back in his apartment, Bucky locked the door behind himself and went to hide under the blankets. Maybe he could just go back to Brooklyn tomorrow. This had been a terrible idea.


	21. Weddings are Happy Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's happy at a wedding, right?

1990

The wedding lunch was extravagant, delicious, and incredibly long. It seemed to Bucky that everyone wanted to give ‘just a little’ speech. Halfway through the meal, he’d tipped over and whispered to Tony, “Do you even know any of these people?” Tony’s answering snort and head shake made Bucky huff a laugh.

Finally, they made it to cutting the cake. As they stood in front of the crowd, Tony leaned up and said, softly, “If you shove any cake into this tuxedo, I’m divorcing you immediately.”

Bucky chuckled. “You look very good in it, why would I want to ruin the effect?”

Tony looked pleased and straightened his shoulders before stepping forward and holding out his hand, with the knife in it. “Let’s go.” The cake, rich chocolate with raspberry filling and chocolate icing, was exactly what he’d wanted, and he smiled down at Tony, remembering the different cakes they’d tried, knowing that this was what they were going to end up with. 

After the top layer had been removed, and they’d made the first cut into the main body of the cake, they stepped aside, clutching plates of cake, and let the staff take over the rest of the process. Tony led the way to one of the table and sat down, grinning at Bucky over his large cake slice.

“Man,” Rhodes said, falling into the seat on Tony’s other side, “I thought that old windbag was never going to stop talking.” He stuck his fork into the icing and licked it off, eyes closing as he did. Bucky didn’t want to see what Tony’s expression was at that, so he kept his own eyes firmly on his plate. 

“Which one?” he asked.

“Tall guy, third from the end.” Rhodes pointed his full fork at Tony. “Where did you get this? Is there some sort of magic wedding cake place? I was just at my cousin’s wedding and her cake wasn’t anything like this.”

“Senator from Michigan,” Tony said. “No, I don’t mean that’s where I got the cake. The windbag. The cake comes from a bakery that our chef suggested. Good, huh? It was Bucky’s idea.”

Rhodes nodded to Bucky. “Good choice.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Sometimes it’s good to go with the classics.”

Joe, and his girlfriend Sandra, sat down on Bucky’s other side. Sandra held their cake plates, and Joe was carrying six glasses of champagne. “Your dad puts on quite a wedding,” he said to Tony. Tony looked stiff, but nodded.

Sandra leaned forward. “This cake is tremendous. I want to get it for our wedding.”

Bucky raised his brows. “You guys are getting married?”

“News to me,” Joe said, laughing. Sandra elbowed him. 

Bucky turned to Tony and said, “I forgot. This is Joe and Sandra. I met them in my sophomore year in school. Joe?” He gestured to Rhodes. “I’d like to introduce James Rhodes, and you’ve met my husband, Tony.”

Sandra waved, a cheerful look on her face. “It’s great to meet you. Bucky talks about you all the time.”

Tony looked deeply curious, but before could say anything, Howard dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey kids,” he said. “Looks like a fun group. The dancing’s going to start soon, so finish up that cake and get ready.”

Bucky groaned, “Oh god, why me?” and everyone at the table laughed at him.

“What’s the matter,” Rhodes asked. “Can’t dance?” There was an odd glint in his eyes, but Bucky ignored it. Rhodes had always been a little odd about him.

“Oh I can,” he said, looking Tony in the eyes. “But Tony’s got eight left feet and they’re all going to be aiming for my toes.”

Tony snorted. “Show’s what you know. I’m grace personified, I am.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky finished his last bite and stood up. “Let’s go, Grace. I’ve got a date with toe squishing.”

Ten minutes later, they stood in the center of a large dance floor, a single light shining down on them, and everyone else standing in the dark at the edges of the room. Bucky held his arms around Tony, making sure they were exactly where they’d rehearsed. Then, just before the music started, Tony said, “Here we go,” and pressed his fingers into Bucky’s arm.

The sound of a sythesizer swelled slowly, then an electric guitar started playing. Bucky looked down at Tony, confused, but Tony just stepped forward confidently, making Bucky step backward. 

“This isn’t what we rehearsed,” Bucky whispered, as the music continued, becoming a song he’d never heard. He caught a couple lyrics (‘will you be there for me?’ ‘love of a lifetime’) as they moved, but couldn’t hear more than half a line at a time. 

Tony was grinning. “I paid the DJ off. I’d much rather dance to something more modern than Strauss, wouldn’t you?” He moved them into a turn and Bucky laughed, suddenly delighted. 

“You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

Tony smirked. “Maybe. Maybe I’m just naturally a good dancer, now that I’m grown up. You haven’t tried to dance with me since we were teenagers.” He swung them around again and Bucky caught a glimpse of Howard, looking hugely amused. Behind him, Obie’s face lurked in the half-dark; he looked far less pleased. 

The song ended, and Tony stepped back, bowing slightly at Bucky, who snorted. The sounds of the Strauss waltz Maria had chosen for their first dance filled the air and they stepped closer together.

“Come on,” Bucky said, “we’ve practiced this one, we should at least dance it once.”

By then, all the guests were on the dance floor as well, and Rhodes swung by, expertly leading a woman Bucky hadn’t met. He nodded at Bucky and winked at Tony and Bucky felt a burst of happiness that his soul mate had friends who’d help him do something like this. 

Howard and Maria danced past, during the next song – something pop and loud – and Maria tapped Bucky on the shoulder. 

“May I cut in?” She smiled and Bucky bent down to kiss her cheek before stepping away from Tony, who cheerfully started dancing with his mother.

“Nice switcheroo,” Howard said, doing something Bucky thought Howard must think was a modern dance. 

Bucky grinned, his hands in his pockets. “Tony did it without me. I had no idea.” He and Howard moved around in the crowd of dancers, all happy and laughing.

“He’s a smart cookie.”

“That he is,” Bucky agreed. They’d reached the edge of the floor and Howard stopped doing… whatever it was he’d been doing with his arms and knees. “You haven’t danced to anything more recent than Ella Fitzgerald, have you?”

Howard turned to him, a shocked look plastered on his face. “Does it show?”

Bucky looked onto the dance floor and saw Tony dancing and, to his dismay – and Howard’s delighted laughter – his dancing looked almost exactly like Howard’s had, a moment before. Bucky let his head fall into his hands. “I’m doomed,” he said.

Someone came up to Howard to chat and Bucky wandered off to the bar to get a glass of water. As he stood there, holding the flute in his hand, a large hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed. 

“Hey there.” Obie stood with his back to the dance floor, one hand fisted in his jacket pocket, the other heavy on Bucky. “Nice trick with the music. Made his parents look foolish in front of everyone.”

“What?”

Obie leaned an elbow on the bar, and Bucky noticed that the bartender was suddenly gone. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“That was Tony.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Obie looked out over the happy group. “Tony won’t do a thing that would make his father think less of him.” He paused and squinted at Bucky. “Nice trick, signing the pre-nup. I thought you’d insist on skipping it.”

“Why would I…” Bucky clenched his jaw. “Was there something specific you wanted to talk to me about, Obie, or is this just your way of wishing us well?”

Obie loomed over Bucky, his wide body blocking the sparkling lights from the disco balls over the dance floor. “Just remember, I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you get away with it.”

“Obie, there you are,” Howard said, strolling up to them with the long-winded Michiganian Senator following him. “I was hoping we could get some business done while the kids are having their fun.” 

Obie straightened up and smiled at Bucky, all teeth and no cheer. “Sounds great, Howard. I’ll be right there.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, hard enough to throw him sideways, then walked over to the Senator. “Good to see you again. Congratulations on being promoted to the Ways and Means Committee.”

Bucky stared after them, completely confused. 

“What the fuck was that,” Reese said. He stepped out from behind the bar and looked back and forth between Bucky and door through which Howard had led the group. “ _Who_ the fuck was that?”

Bucky turned to him. “I have no fucking clue.” Reese’s brows drew together and Bucky flapped a hand. “No, I know _who_ it was, that’s Obadiah Stane, but I have no idea why he thinks I’m doing anything other than marrying Tony.”

“Who’s Obadiah Stane when he’s at home?” Reese had been raised by his grandparents in Ohio and occasionally came out with old-fashioned phrases, which usually amused Bucky. Right now, though, Bucky felt like everyone in the room was staring at him.

“He’s Mr Stark’s business partner.”

“Huh. That’s even weirder.” 

Bucky rubbed his face. “No shit. I’m going to go find Tony and see if we can leave. I’ll see you in a month?”

Reese nodded. “Joe and I’ll keep the place running. You’re like a mother hen, always worried about the program.”

Bucky shrugged. “I just—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get going. Go have a great honeymoon with your soul mate over there. Send me a postcard with a dancing girl or something.”

Tony was in the middle of a large group of people, all trying to outdo each other in weird dance moves. At first, when Bucky pushed his way into the center, Tony looked annoyed, but then Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and mouthed the words, “Honeymoon in France?” Tony looked enlightened and laughed. 

“Hey guys,” he said, “I’m going on my honeymoon. I’ll catch you all later!”

He followed Bucky through the crowd and then back to the dining room, now filled with staff cleaning up. “Where’s Father?”

Bucky looked around. “I’m not sure. He went off with that awful windbag and Obie to talk business, so who knows where they’ve gone. I was hoping to find Edwin or your mother, actually. They’ll be able to root him out from wherever he is.” He turned and pulled on Tony’s shoulders, hoping for a hug. 

Tony stiffened for a moment, then stepped in and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “What time is it?”

“I think we’ve a couple of hours before your father’s scheduled the plane. We’re all packed – or at least, I am – so once we find them, we can tell them goodbye and change and get to the airport.” He rested his chin on Tony’s head. “And then, next stop, Gay Paree.”

Tony pinched him at his waist. “This isn’t nineteen twenty. They don’t call it that anymore.”

“How do you know? You’re an engineer. All you know about is technical stuff. They could have re-named the city.”

Tony bounced his head on Bucky’s chest. “Fuck you.” He didn’t let go, though, and Bucky felt his worry and stress over whatever Obie had been on about fading away.

In the plane high over the Atlantic, Bucky looked out the window as the attendant brought out another bottle of champagne. He started to pour it into flutes, but Bucky leaned forward and said, “Wait. This is ridiculous. There’s only the two of us – aren’t there larger glasses on the plane? Let’s just have it in, I don’t know. Beer glasses or something.”

Tony laughed. “That’s a great idea. Let’s start this marriage off right.” He came and sat on Bucky’s lap, a dish of chocolate covered strawberries in his hand. “Open up.”

Bucky didn’t pay attention to anything other than Tony for the rest of the flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Tony bribed the DJ to play is this one: [Firehouse - Love of a Lifetime](https://youtu.be/5ETENrv8cnU) ([lyrics](https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/1001822/Love+of+a+Lifetime))
> 
> The waltz they were intended to dance to first is this one: [Frühlingsstimmen Waltz, Op. 410 Voices of Spring](https://youtu.be/ewXcgHvUElc)
> 
> Getting married to 90's songs wouldn't be so bad. [Playlist One](https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/music/a29665694/best-90s-love-songs/) [Playlist Two](http://weddingplanner-toronto.ca/top-30-wedding-songs-from-the-90s/)


	22. Any Movement is Good Movement?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least they're talking about something, even if it isn't necessarily the most important stuff. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to post two chapters this week, to make up for last week's holiday related lack.

2012

When Bucky came home from his run, sweaty and happy that he’d only stumbled twice when he’d forgotten and tried to swing both arms, he found Tony loitering in his foyer. A chair and table had materialized near the window and Tony was there, reading something on his phone, and also on a large floating display. As the elevator doors closed behind Bucky, Tony surged to his feet.

“Bucky, hi,” he said, sweeping his phone into his pocket. “Sorry to bother you again so soon, and,” he paused and looked Bucky up and down. “And when you’re clearly on your way inside for a shower. But I forgot to show you where the gym is. Did I remember to tell you I had a small one installed on your floor? I think I told you, but I’m not sure.” He stepped to the side and opened a door that Bucky hadn’t seen. 

Bucky pulled the hem of his shirt up and wiped his face before stepping forward to follow Tony through the door. Tony hadn’t moved and, for one long second, looked glazed over. 

“What, Tony,” Bucky said, and Tony gave a full-body twitch.

“Right, right, sorry. Wool gathering. Advancing age, don’t you know.” He shook his head sharply and flung the door open. There was a very short corridor with windows out on the left, a door marked stairs on the right, and a glass door at the end, through which Bucky could see a well-stocked gym.

“Huh,” he said and pushed the door open. The room smelt of new construction, freshly-laid carpet, and, weirdly, mangos. “This is great, wow.” He wandered further into the gym and saw several machines which his physiotherapist had suggested he try to find, as well as a massage table, more free weights than a full-size Gold’s Gym had ever had, and a fully stocked sliding-glass-fronted fridge with snacks, fruit, and various beverages. He thought he might even see beer.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to smile at Tony. “This is very nice.” He wandered over to the wall of windows and peered down to the ground, miles down. _Should I ask about last night?_

Tony came closer – he’d been standing at the door – and looked out across the city. “I was wondering if you’d want to get lunch together. I could have something delivered and we could eat up on the roof?” He tapped his foot against the closest bit of machinery.

“Oh.” Bucky “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon about my office building.” 

Tony looked stiff, but nodded. “Sure, that makes sense. I’ll just—” He started to sidle to the door, but something about the way he was moving made Bucky reach a hand out to stop him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean we couldn’t eat lunch. Just—I can’t do the rooftop thing.” Bucky pulled in a breath. He had to ask. “About last night—”

“I asked Pepper how I got upstairs last night and she said that I went up in the elevator on my own,” Tony said in a rush. “I thought I remembered talking to you, but you left before me, so that can’t be right.” He rocked back on his heels, staring darkly at the horizon. “I’m sorry if you left because I was drinking. I’ve really stopped. I haven’t been drunk since you moved out.” 

“You—” Bucky closed his mouth. “You don’t mean ‘stopped drinking entirely’, since we had wine at lunch the other day.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “No, not entirely. But usually I try to stop at only two beers or some wine. Nothing like what I used to do.” He wiped a hand over his mouth. “That’s over.”

“Huh.” Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and remembered that he was just wearing sweatpants. “Right, so I must stink. I’ll go take a shower and then we can get lunch. I won’t be long.” Two steps past the door, he realized that this meant he’d left Tony standing alone in the gym, and he stuck his head through the door. “You can wait in my living room, if you want. It’s more comfortable than here.”

Tony brightened and followed him through his front door. He stood in the middle of the room and waved his hand at Bucky. “Go ahead. You’re probably starving by now. I remember that running always made you hungry.”

Bucky hurried through his bedroom, stripping his clothes off and dropping them in the hamper as he passed it. In the shower, he realized that he didn’t know if Tony had any ideas about where, other than the rooftop, they could eat. 

“JARVIS,” he said. “Can you ask Tony where he’d like to eat?” JARVIS was silent, and Bucky thought that he might not have been loud enough. The shower did make a lot of noise. “JARVIS,” he shouted. “Can you ask Tony, please, where he’d like to eat!” JARVIS still didn’t respond, and Bucky shook his head in frustration.

Bucky tugged clothes on, annoyed by the way the left sleeve of his jacket flapped about. _I keep meaning to see if I can get those sewn closed. Dammit, I should look for a tailor. I’ll bet Howard’s old one would know what to do._

In the living room, he saw Tony sitting in the chair next to the window, curled up around the pillow Bucky had been using on the couch. The lower half of his face was buried in it and Bucky wondered what he was staring at through the window that had him so distracted. He cleared his throat, and Tony shot to his feet, the pillow thrown back into the chair so hard it bounced out and onto the floor.

“You okay there, Tony?”

Tony stood straight, dusting his hands off. “Sure, yeah. Everything’s fine here.” He put the pillow into the chair. “So, any ideas about lunch?”

“Is something wrong with JARVIS?”

“What?” Tony’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“I asked him to ask you where you wanted to eat and he didn’t say anything.” Bucky folded his sleeve up and dug a safety pin out of his jeans and tried to stick it through the folds of fabric.

“Oh.” Tony drifted closer. “Uh. I can… can I help?” His hands floated toward Bucky’s arm, then fell. When Bucky nodded, he stepped in and started re-folding the sleeve. “I turned JARVIS off in your place. I remembered that you never liked having him talk to you and watching you, so, well. He’s still active in the foyer, for safety, but I deactivated his inputs and cameras and stuff in here.” He kept his eyes firmly on his hands as they worked.

Bucky felt himself warm with pleasure. JARVIS had been one of the things they’d disagreed about from the beginning. Edwin had always said he didn’t want to be one of Tony’s experiments, and having his voice – and something of his personality – used as the basis for JARVIS had made Bucky desperately unhappy.

He gripped Tony’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you. That’s… that’s very kind.” 

Tony’s cheeks pinked and he stepped back. “There you go. All good now.” After a moment’s silence, he said, “So. Lunch?”

Bucky laughed. “Sure. I’ve got to meet the construction people at my office at two, so how about we have something around there. Then I can just walk to the building when we’re done.”

“I’ll call a car.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Or we could take the subway?”

Tony swung around. “Sure, but…”

“You could have Happy pick you up, after. Then you wouldn’t have to take the subway on your own on the way back here.”

Tony looked thoughtful. “Let me just tell Pep and ask Happy to be ready. Did you have a restaurant in mind?”

Forty minutes later, Bucky led the way to his favorite sandwich place near his office. There were plenty of tables, and the staff were happy to see him. He’d managed to convince Tony to sit at a table near the back while he ordered for them, and he diligently ignored the part of himself that was pleased to see Tony looking around curiously as he came back to the table with Adele, the owner of the shop.

“I hear you’re helping out with getting the streets cleaned up,” she said to Tony as she set down the glasses of soda water Bucky had ordered. 

Tony looked a bit startled, but Bucky just chuckled. “You know we need all the help we can get, Adele. He’s just helping me get loans and stuff.”

“Well, any friend of yours,” she said, clapping Bucky on his left shoulder.

After she left, Tony peeked over his glasses. “She doesn’t know who I am?”

“Adele? She wouldn’t care, frankly. Unless you turned out to be mean to kittens. Then she’s your sworn enemy.”

Tony nodded. “Good with cats, got it.” He took a sip of the Italian soda and smiled. “I’d forgotten how good a grenadine is. Thanks. What’s the meeting for?”

Bucky sipped his own almond flavored drink and leaned back, watching the other people in the restaurant. “Mostly just checking in, but I wanted to see if there were ways I could make the place a little safer. More discreet.”

Tony leaned forward. “Maybe I can help. Show me the plans? If you’ve got them, I mean.”

Bucky shrugged and pulled his phone out. “Sure. They’re right here.”

They spent the next half hour poring over the plans. One of the staff brought their food and drink refills, but Bucky didn’t notice except to start eating his sandwich. Tony took a bite of his and held it out to Bucky.

“This is great, wow. How did I not know about this place before?”

Bucky snorted. “You can’t know everything, you know.”

“Fie. I can so.” Tony grinned at Bucky and, setting his phone down on the table, carefully shifted around so that the floating screen he flicked up into the air was shielded by his body. “Now, I was thinking. You own the three buildings on either side of the one your sign’s on, right? How about if you have them build hidden connecting corridors? That’ll give the people who come to you ways of getting in and out without being seen.”

Bucky chewed thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. I’d thought of trying something like that, but it was always too much work, and far too public. This is the perfect time to get it done.” He shoved one of the glowing ‘walls’ around and tapped it. “We can have an entrance here to the roof, as well. Hidden and quiet.” 

Tony drained his drink and leaned his chin on his hand. “Not bad. What businesses are going in on the ground floor?”

“Hadn’t thought about it yet. There was a florist, but I’m sure they’re gone. Old Mr Waldon wanted to retire.”

“What about a hiring agency? That’ll give people a reason to come here and stay for a while. And you can even get them jobs, while you’re at it.”

Bucky turned to him. “That’s… why are you being so helpful?”

Tony looked mulish. “I’m always helpful.”

Bucky just raised his brows and Tony huffed, then his shoulders came down from around his ears. 

“Alright, fine. I was just… I got to thinking, while you were gone.” He looked sad and tired for a minute. “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” he whispered, then he waved a hand. “Anyway, whatever. That’s not the point. I was thinking, you’ve worked on this all your life and I never really looked at it. Looked into it. There’s a lot of research, but not enough.”

Bucky blinked. “I—sure, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“So I’ve also asked a couple of the people up at MIT to check it out. There must be some research that’s been done about soul mates and soul bonds. I’m pretty sure my father said something about something Hydra was doing.”

Bucky recoiled. “I don’t want to—”

“Oh, we wouldn’t use their methods, but they were thorough. Horrifyingly so, but still. It would be good to have that data used for something positive, right? I haven’t seen it yet. I’ll let you know when they send it to me.”

“Bucky? Is that you?” someone called from a couple of tables away.

Bucky swung around, feeling a confusing churning mixture of fury at being interrupted, horror at the idea of using Hydra research data for anything at all, and startlement at being addressed. Chiki stood, loaded tray in hand, at the next table over.

“Chiki.” Bucky ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath and blowing it out sharply. “Yes, hi. How’re you?”

Chiki came over. “Fine. I was going to talk to the construction crew today and thought this would be a great place to have lunch. I see you got here before me.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. He’d stuffed all of the glowing tech back into his phone and had crossed his arms over his chest.

“Chiki, I’d like you to meet Tony. Tony, this is Chintan Ghoshal. He owns the building next to mine. We met when we were finally let back into the area to inspect the buildings.”

“I own more than just that building now,” Chiki said, slipping into the chair across from them and setting his tray down. “I wanted to talk to you about the one we bought from that racist asshole.”

Tony snorted and turned to Bucky. “Racist asshole?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he was a total jerk. His building was full of cut-rate apartments and he never bothered to maintain it. Naturally, his tenants weren’t allowed to move back in—”

“Although he tried to get the city to force them to,” Chiki interrupted. “And then, when they wouldn’t, he took the compensation from the city for the damages and told his tenants that they were on their own.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “I assume you’ve done something for them?” His face was pointed at Chiki, but he was looking at Bucky, who shrugged. 

“What do you take me for? They’re in apartments that Chiki has, in Queens. At low rents, for their trouble.”

Tony nodded. “What’s the guy’s name? I have a feeling he won’t be getting too many new loans.”

Chiki started to respond, then he looked at Tony more carefully. “Oh. Ah, I hadn’t recognized you, Mr Stark.”

Tony sighed and let his arms fall to the table. “If you’re a friend of Bucky’s, I guess you’re a friend of mine.” He extended his hand to shake. “Tony Stark, nice to meetcha.”

“Call me Chiki.”

Just then, Tony’s phone squealed, high-pitched and abrasive. Everyone in the place jumped and looked around to see where the sound was coming from, but Tony had already silenced it and was staring, blank-faced, at the screen.

He looked up at Bucky, his expression strained, then it all smoothed away. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to go. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you soon.” He reached out, and for one heart-stopping moment Bucky thought he was going to hug him, then Tony just clapped him on the shoulder. “Soon.”

Bucky watched him walk briskly between the tables and out the door and, just as he turned the corner, Bucky saw a blur of red and gold streaking across the sky in their direction.


	23. Life is Hard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't going as well as Bucky hoped. And then they get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit longer than I wanted between chapters, but my kid managed to get a new apartment and then move into it in the course of a week and a half and I've been running ragged helping them get everything set up and done. I'm very tired.

1991

Bucky looked up at the sound of the flat’s front door. Tony staggered in, jacket draped over his shoulder, hair completely mussed, as if someone had been rubbing it sideways, and stinking of liquor and perfume. 

“Oh hiiiiii,” Tony said, trying to lean on the wall and missing, so he slid ungracefully to the back of a wing chair. “Why’re you still up? I thought you’d be asleep. I was tryin’ to be quiet.” He pressed a finger to his lips and ‘shusshed’ himself. 

“Tony.” Bucky stood up, setting his book aside. “It’s three in the morning. What were you doing?”

Tony eeled over the arm of the chair and sprawled out on it. “I gotta learn how to do the business.” He reached for Bucky, who was leaning over him. “I could do the business to you.” His hands, instead of going around Bucky’s shoulders, slid along his chest and down to his hips. 

Bucky heaved him upright. “I hope you weren’t getting drunk in the lab.”

“Nooooo,” Tony said, stuffing his nose into the hollow under Bucky’s ear, making Bucky shiver. “I didn’t get to the lab all day.” He sounded sad. “I been doing real work, it’s harder.”

Bucky got them down the hall to their bedroom and dumped Tony on the bed. “What do you mean ‘real work’? I thought you spent all day in the lab with Howard.”

Tony looked bitter. “Father’s away again. Another trip up north, to look for his Golden Boy.” He struggled to sit up and glowered down at Bucky, trying to untie his shoes. “I haven’t seen Father in a month. No.” He yawned and tugged at his shirt buttons. “Obie doesn’t bother with the labs. The guys there’ll just keep making things, so the real work’s in the meetings.” 

He was mostly silent as he and Bucky finished getting him undressed. Then, after Bucky’d given him some aspirin and made him drink the entire large glass of water, he said, “Only, I don’t wanna do the meetings. They’re boring. I wanna be in the lab. There’s this thing I was working on…” He yawned again. “But I can’t—” 

Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony and pulled his back into Bucky’s chest, cuddling tight. “Then tell Obie that you’re busy. He can’t really think that the company doesn’t need good engineers. What would he sell at those boring meetings if he didn’t have engineers making the stuff to sell?”

Tony nodded, then his whole body sagged as he fell asleep. 

Three months later, Tony hadn’t once come home before two in the morning. By the end of the first month, Bucky stopped waiting up for him. He was trying to set up his company to help soul mates, and he couldn’t get anything done if he was exhausted the whole time. 

One night, as he stared blankly into the empty fridge, his phone rang. 

“James, how are you?” Edwin’s voice was warm and Bucky felt something in his chest crack. 

“Edwin. Hi, how’re you? Are you guys back in town?” 

“We have been in the city for a week. I was surprised not to hear from you.” 

Bucky sat down at the kitchen table. “I didn’t know you were here.” 

“Ah.” Edwin was silent for a moment. “I believe that there is room for you to come for dinner, if you and Mr Stark haven’t yet eaten.”

“Oh, Tony won’t be home for hours,” Bucky said easily. “But I’d love to come and see you. Is Ana cooking? Should I bring something?”

“Noé has already started making something with basil and cod. I shall tell him to make sure there is enough for you and I’ll expect you in half an hour?”

“Or less. I’m coming right now.” Bucky hung up and, grabbing his jacket, flew out the door. 

On the way to the mansion, in the crammed-full subway, he realized that he hadn’t talked to someone about something other than work in nearly a month. _When did I get so lonely?_

Edwin met him with a tight hug at the door, and Ana stood directly behind him, a hug of her own at the ready. Bucky felt a unexpected rush of tears and sucked in a breath to keep them under control. There wasn’t any reason to inflict his own unhappiness on his family.

To his surprise, dinner was just Edwin and Ana and Frank. “I thought Howard and Maria would be here,” he said.

Frank chuckled. “The boss is over at the office – don’t worry, Belden’s on guard duty tonight – and I think Maria’s visiting her bridge friends. We wanted to catch up with you kids, but I see Tony takes after his father.”

Bucky felt his expression change and tried to smooth it out. “He does spend a lot of time there,” he said, trying for neutral.

“Does he,” Edwin said. “Howard seemed to expect more things to have been worked on. He sounded confused about the lack of progress, when he was on the phone.”

Bucky stiffened. “What is this? Is this really just a way for you guys to pry into our business?”

Edwin looked startled, but Ana looked sad. “No,” she said. “I wanted to see you and we were surprised you hadn’t come as soon as you heard we were back.”

Bucky set his utensils down. “I didn’t know you were until Edwin called me. How should I have known?”

Frank finished his bite and said, slowly. “Tony was here with Howard, the day we got back. They had a big fight about what Tony’s been doing while Howard was up north.”

Bucky sighed and rubbed his face. “I haven’t seen Tony in a week. He’s either gone before I get up, or he’s sleeping in one of the other bedrooms. Or he doesn’t come home at all. I don’t know.” He looked at his half-empty glass instead of at the expressions of disgust he knew the others would have. He couldn’t even keep his soul mate coming home at night.

“Has he discussed with you what he’s been working on?” Edwin was quiet.

“No. He said I wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t seem to be spending much time in the lab, though. He’s spending a lot of time doing… well. He’s going to a lot of meetings.”

Frank pursed his lips. “Meetings, or,” He gestured with his hands. “‘Meetings?’”

“There’s usually booze, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bucky crossed his arms. “If you’ve got a bone to pick with Tony, don’t bring me into it.”

Edwin nodded sharply. “That’s a very good point. While I would like to learn more about how Tony has been using his time, I think I’d rather hear about how your business is going. Have you had any luck finding a good office?”

Bucky eyed him carefully, but Edwin looked genuinely interested. 

“Well,” Bucky said, “I found a place, but it’s a bit small. I did manage to find a couple of little apartments to buy for halfway houses, though, and I’ll be setting them up over the next couple of weeks.” He turned to Frank. “I could use your help with that, if you’re going to be in town for a while. I want to have someone better at security come and give them a look.”

Frank nodded. “Sure, kid. I’d love to help.”

That evening, as Bucky went back home, a large bag of food from Noé in his arms, he thought about the fact that Tony hadn’t told him that Howard and Maria – and the rest of the household – were back. He tried to think of the last time he’d seen Tony and realized that he hadn’t actually seen him in two weeks. 

When he opened their apartment front door, Tony was sitting in a chair he’d dragged to be directly facing the door. He had a large glass of alcohol in one hand, the bottle sat on the floor next to him. He was clearly already drunk. 

“Well, look who toddled back home.” His voice was snide. “Where’ve you been and who with? Was he cute?”

Bucky stopped and glared at him. “What the actual fuck, Tony. You don’t get to come in here and act like a doting housewife. You haven’t been home in two goddamned weeks. I have no idea what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with. I know you’re not doing anything with me.” He slammed past Tony and into the kitchen, where he dropped the bag onto the counter. 

“And also,” he continued, coming back into the foyer. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me your parents were back in town? How come I had to learn they were back from Edwin calling me because he thought I was deliberately ignoring them?”

A look of shame swept over Tony’s face, then dissolved into anger. “Why do you _think_ I didn’t tell you? You’ve always been their favorite anyway, I’m just surprised it took him that long to call you.” 

He drained his glass and leaned sloppily over the arm of his chair to get the bottle. “Why the fuck do I care where you’ve been, anyway?” He stood up, his glass full again. “I can find someone more interested in me anywhere. Not everyone is such a bore.”

Bucky stepped back. He’d hoped that, no matter how much perfume Tony smelled of, he wasn’t still sleeping with other people. “Tony,” he said, but stopped at the look of pure fury on Tony’s face. 

“You think you’re so good, don’t you? You never have to live up to your fucking father. Your father left you, you’re nothing to him, are you? It doesn’t matter what you do, no one cares.” Tony gestured widely, then took another swig from his glass. 

“Get out.” Bucky felt waves of icy cold race over his body. “If you don’t care, get the fuck out.”

“I don’t have to. This is my house, too.” Tony stalked up to Bucky. “And you’re mine, don’t forget that.” He ran a hand along Bucky’s chest and down to cup his crotch, where, to Bucky’s desperate shame, his cock immediately perked up. The sharp grin Tony sent him had the effect of making him feel both humiliated and deeply aroused. 

“Come on, baby,” Tony crooned. “I can make you feel better than anyone else.” His fingers curved around the shape of Bucky’s cock and Bucky sucked in a breath at the jolt of pleasure he felt. “It’s always so good with you,” Tony whispered and leaned up to press a kiss to Bucky’s mouth.

Suddenly all the anger, all the worry he’d felt for the past few weeks crashed together with the way Tony’s hands felt on his body and Bucky surged forward, grabbing the hair at the back of Tony’s scalp and forcing his head back to expose his neck. 

Tony whimpered and his hips rocked forward, making Bucky even hotter. He set his teeth at Tony’s neck, dragging them sideways down the long muscle from his ear to his collarbone, then reached down and squeezed Tony’s ass hard enough to make Tony squeak. 

“God, fuck me as hard as you can,” Tony gasped, before pulling Bucky’s shirt up and latching onto Bucky’s nipple, sucking and biting. 

They crashed their way down the hall to their bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothes, sucking at everything they could get their mouths on. Finally, they fell onto the bed and Bucky lost all ability to concentrate on anything other than the way Tony made him feel and the things he wanted to do to Tony in return.

The next morning, Bucky woke up and reached out to Tony’s side of the bed. It was stone cold and, even more upsetting, neatly made up, as if he’d been alone in the bed all night. He shot out from under the blankets and ran to the kitchen, hoping that Tony had just gotten up earlier than he had and was waiting with coffee in the kitchen. 

The only things that showed that Tony’d been in the apartment at all were the bruises and bite marks running down Bucky’s chest and the fact that the food had been put away.

“What the fuck, Tony,” Bucky said, staring around the living room. 

Two days later, he got an email from Maria, asking if he had time to have lunch with her the next day. He happily made plans with her, then shoved the rest of his schedule around to fit.

Over lunch at a small French bistro, they chatted about the work Maria had been doing for underprivileged children. She had a stack of drawings the teachers she’d hired had collected and they spent some time admiring all of them. Finally, at the end of the meal, over coffee, she leaned forward and put her hand on his forearm.

“James, I was hoping you and Tony could come to dinner at the house in the coming week. I know he’s very busy with Howard, and hasn’t had time to come and see me while we’ve been home. But since Howard and I are planning on going to Europe for the summer, this will be the last time we can see you until the autumn.” She smiled at him. “I love seeing my two boys together.”

Bucky bit his lip, then nodded. “I’ll find out when he’s got time, but I’m sure he’d love to have dinner.” _Tony, you couldn’t even go see your mother while she’s here?_

That evening, he sent an email to Tony, asking him to call so they could make plans to have dinner with his parents. He didn’t expect to hear from Tony at all, but knew he had to try.

The next night, just as he was about to go to bed, Tony stormed into the apartment. “What the hell do you mean, emailing me like that? Are you accusing me of ignoring my mother?”

Bucky, wearing nothing but a robe over soft flannel pajama pants, looked up from where he’d been reading on the couch. “Hi, Tony. How’re you? How’ve you been doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.” He paused, watching the way Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother hasn’t seen you in a while either, so if the shoe fucking fits, I guess it’s on your foot.”

Tony’s jaw set and he crossed his arms. He was wearing a three-piece suit in a rich dark plum; the waistcoat was brilliant cherry red. Bucky ached to be able to peel it off him.

“Look, _James_ ,” Tony said, “my family, and the way I choose to spend time with them, is none of your business. I don’t want to hear from you about them. I don’t want to hear from them about you. If I could, I’d make it so you never spend any time with them. You lost your own family and I’m tired of you stealing mine.” He lifted his chin. “I’ll call Mother when I have time. Stay out of it.”

He spun on his heel, then looked back over his shoulder. “And I’ve got myself a place to live. You can have this dump.”

Bucky sat still, feeling like he’d just been hit everywhere by a large, heavy weight. When he thought he could breathe again, he stood up slowly, every part of his body aching and sore, and went to bed.

The next day, he took himself out to lunch at the little diner down the street from his office. It was small and a little dingy, but he loved the fries. 

The television they had hanging in the corner usually showed Spanish _telenovelas_ , but today, someone had set it to show the news. He glanced at it, but apparently it was a slow news day. They seemed to be covering a car crash down the coast. He shrugged and turned back to his book.

Then, someone turned up the sound.

“…ward and Maria Stark have been killed in a single-car crash on Long Island.”


	24. What To Do While You Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has more friends than he realizes.

2012

Bucky followed his contractor through the dusty corridors. Brenda was short, with steel-grey hair, dark brown eyes, a quick smile, and the tendency to have several simultaneous conversations. As she strode along in front of him, she pointed to a team working on dismantling a wall. “And we found a patch of black mold, so we’re re-doing that section. I think we should look at the crawlspace between the buildings, we found a space between the firewalls between 75 and 77, you should have seen the junk the original builder left. One of my guys wants to try selling one of the old magazines he found. He thinks it could get some real money, but I thought we should ask you, you’re the owner.” 

Bucky blinked at her and, when she turned to look inquisitively over her shoulder, shrugged. “I don’t care if he sells them. But I’d like to see them first, just to see what they are.”

She grinned. “They’re porn. Not very sexy, but…” She shrugged. “Tell me when you’re available and I’ll have Miguel show them to you.”

Bucky snorted. “How old did you say—no, I’d rather see them unspoiled.”

An hour and a half later, Bucky stepped out onto the sidewalk and rubbed his eyes with his hand. Every time he blinked, he saw the redandgold streak of one of the suits and he knew this meant Tony was off somewhere risking his life. He determinedly opened his eyes and then jumped. Chiki stood in front of him, arm reaching for his shoulder.

“I thought you hadn’t heard me,” Chiki said, stepping back. “Was your meeting as boring as mine?” He turned and gestured toward the subway and Bucky shook his head sharply before following.

“Actually,” Bucky said, “apparently there was some old trash between the firewalls in two of the basements in the buildings and they found old porn. One of the guys thinks he can sell it for money, but I want to see it first.” He grinned at Chiki’s expression. “I don’t care about the money, but it would be worth it to see antique porn, don’t you think?”

Chiki snorted. “Take pictures for me?” They were silent for a few minutes as they walked down the street. Then Chiki said, “So. Tony Stark.”

Bucky sighed. “Look. It’s… we’re…”

“Soul mates, right?”

Bucky couldn’t tell what Chiki’s expression meant. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…” Chiki looked at him soberly. “Did you think I’d ask for money?”

Bucky looked at the people they were passing as they walked. “I don’t usually bring it up at all.”

Chiki stopped and stepped back, out of the way of other walkers. “I don’t need money, I’m fine on my own. What’s important to me, as your friend, is to know that he is good to you.” Chiki put his hand on Bucky’s left shoulder and squeezed gently. “You deserve to have a soul mate who is as caring as you are.”

Bucky felt a wave of emotions surge through his chest. _I think that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me._ He pressed his hand over his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Thank you, Chintan. That’s very kind.”

“No, not very. Just the usual amount.” Chiki shook his shoulder, then dropped his hand. “Please let me know if I need to explain to him just how he should be treating you.”

Bucky snorted at the mental image of Tony letting someone tell him how to do anything, let alone how to treat his soul mate. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

In the subway station, they went in opposite directions, but before they separated, Chiki gave him a huge hug. “Noor wants to see you for lunch again. Call or text when you’re free. I think she wants to see if she can find a curry hot enough to make you cry.”

“Your wife’s a menace.” 

Chiki looked delighted before trotting off to catch his train. As Bucky turned to find his own, he caught a glimpse of something metallic and red-and-gold and felt the world tilt slightly off kilter again. 

“He’ll be _fine_ , stop this,” he muttered. He spent the train ride grimly reading over a report on the news in Ethiopia.

In the Tower, he slipped through the happy crowd and through the private door, heaving a sigh as the peace and quiet wrapped around him. The elevator ride up was silent. 

There was a small envelope stuck to his door. His name was written in flowing cursive on the front. With a slight feeling of dread, he walked into his rooms and shut the door before opening the envelope.

> James,  
>  I would be very pleased if you would come down to the communal living area when you get home and comfortable.  
>  Yours, Pepper 

“What do you mean?” He turned the note over, hoping she’d noted the reason for wanting to see him, but there was nothing but what looked like hand-painted watercolor flowers on the front of the card. “Fuck.”

He dropped the note and envelope on the coffee table and spent a few minutes staring out the window at the sky, wondering where Tony was and who was with him. If they were safe. If _he_ was safe.

“Ugh, whatever.” He stripped off his clothes and started the shower. Walking through the active construction always got him dusty and gritty, no matter how much they tried to keep him away from the real work areas. 

After the shower, he stared at his clothes. If he were going to stay up in his own apartment, he’d just put on some sweatpants and an old teeshirt, but Pepper was always perfectly dressed and it seemed rude to show up in stained old clothes. He climbed into jeans, grateful that he’d never liked button flies, and tugged on a soft teeshirt with a screenprinted Iron Man face on the chest. He figured Tony had bought it for him, since he’d found it in the bureau when he got back.

Downstairs, Pepper was standing staring out the window. She was looking down, though, at the passing traffic on the street. He walked to join her, leaning forward to see if he could spot what she was looking at.

“James,” she said. She sounded happy to see him, which startled him. Tony wasn’t here for her to impress with her friendliness. “I’m so glad you joined me. I know that it’s hard, and I thought you might have an easier time if we waited together.”

“I’m sorry—” He was cut off by her wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Hi, Pepper, it’s nice to see you. But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh.” She stepped toward the table near the kitchen area. “I always find waiting while Tony and the rest are out doing—” She waved a hand in the direction of the windows. “Doing what they do, to be very difficult. I hate not knowing, you know?” 

She sat down at the table and shoved one of the other chairs out with her foot. As Bucky sat down, he looked more closely at her. She was wearing a pair of loose pants, a long top that looked like it was made of three thin layers of fabric, and she wasn’t wearing shoes. 

She saw him looking and shrugged. “I know, but I couldn’t stand to wear a suit for a minute longer. I wanted to be comfortable.” She sat up straight. “I had some snacks put together. I didn’t think I could eat a heavy lunch, but if you want something else, please don’t hesitate to ask.” 

The table held a variety of sandwich makings; a few different types of bread, every kind of spread from chicken salad to what looked like a mix of tapenade and baba ganouj, several bowls of fruit, and stacked neatly on a plate at the end, mixed macarons. He raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed slightly. 

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d be hungry, so…” She grinned at him and started making herself a sandwich. “I know I am. I got the call that they’d been activated at about eleven and I hurried through the rest of my appointments. Waiting sucks. It’s so much better to do it together.” 

With a mental shrug, Bucky started working on his own lunch. She watched him for a moment, then said, “I, erm. If you need help with anything…” 

“I’ve got it,” he said. “Thanks, though.” It was clear she was trying to be kind, so he ignored how confusing and uncomfortable this was. 

After lunch, which was delicious, she led the way to the couches across the mostly open-plan space. “I usually keep one small screen set to the news, but silent, so I don’t have to pay attention if I don’t want to. Is that okay with you, or do you want to have the sound on. Or more news?”

Bucky sat down in one of the comfortable side chairs. “I—this is the first time I’m doing this.”

“Oh!” She looked startled, then apologetic. “I’m so sorry, would you rather be alone? I’m having dinner sent up later – Tony said you like French food, so I got my favorite place to send over a tasting menu for us – but if you want to be on your own, I can have your half sent to your apartment.”

And suddenly, Bucky didn’t want to be alone. The thought of sitting by himself made his skin crawl. “No. No, thanks, I think you’re right. It’s better here.” He pulled in a deep breath and tried to ignore how pleased she looked. 

“We could watch a movie? I’ve got a whole set of corny romances set up for times like this.” At his expression, she smiled ruefully. “Good point, maybe not. I’m sure JARVIS can find us a similar group of something else?”

Bucky thought for a minute. “How do you feel about cheesy 1970s Sci-Fi B movies?” 

Pepper lit up. “That sounds great, but we’ll need popcorn. You talk to JARVIS and I’ll get the corn.” She trotted off, her pale red hair bouncing behind her. _I can see what Tony sees in her. She’s nice._

By the time she came back with two large bowls of popcorn, he’d set up a series of movies for JARVIS to show them. 

“Oh, _Flash Gordon_ , I love this movie. Did you put _Soylent Green_ on the list?”

They made it through all of _Flash Gordon_ and were halfway through _The Ice Pirates_ when JARVIS paused the movie to say, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the delivery has arrived.”

After the bustle of getting everything set up, Pepper suggested having the movie continue while they ate. “Tony,” she said, “made sure to add a wall-screen near the table.” She nodded at Bucky. “You know how he is about always having a screen nearby.” 

Suddenly it was more than Bucky could take. “Pepper—Virginia—this is all very nice and you’re clearly a lovely woman, but I don’t think I can do this.”

She sat back, a fleeting expression of sorrow flashing across her face. “I’m sorry, James. I was hoping we could be friends.”

He clenched his fist, then spread his fingers out wide on his thigh. “I know you’re planning on marrying Tony after he divorces me. I don’t see how I can be—how we could be friends after that. I know that some people do it, but…” He couldn’t look at her. “But I can’t.”

He stood up and started for the door, but she reached for him as he passed her. “James, wait. What do you mean ‘divorces you’? Are you planning on getting a divorce? Does Tony know?”

“Of course he knows. It was his idea.”

She looked baffled. “But… did he say he wanted a divorce?”

“You mean you’d be willing to continue to be in a relationship with him _without_ one?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?” He started to answer, but she held up a hand. “Wait, do you think… ? You do. Oh. No, James. No. NO, Tony and I aren’t in a relationship.”

He gestured to the room. “Don’t lie to me. You two live together.”

“Anthony Edward Stark and I are not in a romantic relationship. He’s my best friend, but we are not having sex. We’ve never had sex.”


	25. Dearly Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funerals are never fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far longer than I wanted between chapters, but... :gestures vaguely to everything:
> 
> I hope your holidays were as pleasant as possible and that you're all staying safe and sound.

_Dearly Beloved..._

Bucky charged up the stairs to the mansion, his hands shaking so badly that he couldn’t get the key into the lock. He pounded on the door and, standing anxiously on the top step, had a moment of strong _deja vu_ to the first time he’d ever seen this door.

The door swung open and Bucky gasped, “Edwin.” Edwin’s face was lined and Bucky realized he was old. Edwin gathered him into a hug. 

“I’m so sorry, James,” Edwin said. “Why didn’t you come earlier?”

“Earlier? I just found out – I saw it on the tv. Edwin, what happened?” Bucky pulled away from Edwin.

Edwin paused. He looked suddenly enlightened. “You didn’t get a phone call?”

“No. No one’s said anything. The last I heard from anyone was a few days ago when Tony…” Bucky trailed off. “Did Tony go to lunch with Maria?” he asked, suddenly desperate. 

Edwin looked sad. “I believe that she hadn’t seen him yet.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Bucky rubbed his face, then pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to avoid thinking about how Tony had lost any chance of seeing his mother again. “Fuck.”

“Quite.” Edwin drew Bucky further down the corridor. “The funeral will be tomorrow. I assume from the fact that you haven’t seen Mr Stark—” He broke off, then coughed sharply and continued. “Since you and Mr Stark have been out of touch with each other, that you will be attending on your own. Shall I have a car sent for you?”

“Edwin, what _happened?_ Howard was a good driver and he’d never have risked Maria.”

Edwin shrugged. “From what I have managed to glean, he slid off the road at a tight turn when he encountered an unexpected oncoming vehicle.”

_We are gathered here today to pay our respects to Howard and Maria Stark, devoted parents of Anthony Edward Stark and beloved friends to many._

Bucky was ushered up to the front of the church to the section reserved for family. He slid into the seat next to Tony, who didn’t look up from his hands, knotted in his lap. Aunt Peg was on the far side of him and she smiled sadly at Bucky.

“Obie,” Tony said, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “Do you think Bucky’s even going to come?”

“Oh Tony,” Bucky said. “I’m right here.”

Tony’s head snapped up and his face slid through joy and sorrow and fury before he crashed forward into Bucky’s chest. “Bucky,” he whispered. “I… mother and father… what’ll I do _now?_ ”

Bucky ran a hand over Tony’s hair, wrapping his other arm tightly around Tony’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. Sweetheart…” 

“So you made it.” Obie’s voice was cold. “I’d have thought you’d have had the sense to stay away.”

Bucky turned to him, still holding Tony. “What do you mean? Of course I’m here, I’m part of the family. Howard and Maria raised me.”

Tony rolled his head to the side and peered up at Obie. “And he can be a pall-bearer with me.”

“If you want,” Bucky said, turning back to him. “Anything you want.” He tried to ignore the way Obie was looming over them.

Aunt Peg stood up, tucking a handkerchief into her sleeve. “Come along, lads,” she said, stepping forward into the aisle, making Obie take a step back. “There’s time for you to gather yourselves before you have to take your places.” She stood in between them and Obie and Bucky was struck by how tight her eyes looked as she stared up at him.

She left them in a small room off to the side in the back of the church. It smelt a bit musty, and there were large fabric tubes stacked in a corner, but there was enough room for Bucky and Tony to stand, pressed together. Bucky rubbed Tony’s back and tried to keep his own tears inside. He could cry later.

Tony leaned back and said, “I thought you weren’t coming. He said… he said that you’d leave now, but I thought you’d at least come for this. You always liked the old man.” He sighed gustily and Bucky blinked.

“Tony, how much have you had to drink?”

Peggy stuck her head back through the door. “Time’s up, kids. Are you all put together?” She wiped Tony’s cheeks with her thumbs, then tugged at Bucky’s jacket and straightened his lapels. “There. All ship-shape. Follow me.”

The eulogy was dreadful. Bucky assumed that whoever had written it hadn’t actually met either Maria or Howard, so it was a mix of gushing praise of their ‘work-ethic’ and ‘extensive charity activities’, and a whirling – and if Bucky remembered the stories he’d heard over the years, inaccurate – overview of what Howard had done in the war. The officiant only mentioned Captain America once, which Bucky thought must have taken great restraint.

At the end, he said, “… and now, we will hear from his son, Anthony Stark.”

Tony stood up and swayed slightly before turning and walking up to the dais. He climbed the steps and stood behind the podium, gripping it with his hands. “My father…” He swallowed and Bucky caught himself muttering under his breath. “My father was a great man. He was… he was always busy. He always had somewhere to be, something else that needed doing.”

Bucky glanced to the side and saw Peggy, leaning forward and whispering. She looked anguished. 

“And my mother was … perfect,” Tony said, leaning hard on the lectern. “They were perfect together, like, I don’ know, just—” He gestured widely and nearly overbalanced. 

Suddenly, Obie loomed up behind Tony and took him by the shoulders. “He was a great man,” he said, guiding Tony away from the microphone. “He spent _his_ time working on things to make the world a better and safer place for everyone.”

Bucky saw Tony flinch and felt his anger rise. He half-stood, then stopped when he heard Peggy murmur, “What is that man playing at?”

_Howard and Maria Stark left this world too early, and leave it smaller for their passing. Please take comfort in their memory._

The reception reminded Bucky of the many cocktail parties Howard and Maria would throw. He kept expecting to see one or the other of them holding court and laughing, a drink in one hand and a canapé in the other. The reception was being held at the mansion, which only made the confusion worse. 

He wandered through the rooms, nodding to the few people he knew, and wondering where Tony was. Obie had swept Tony up after the interment and they’d gone off in a different car. By the time Bucky got to the mansion, he’d lost track of Tony entirely.

Random conversations swirled around Bucky as he moved through the crowd, all the different people chatting lightly about things that had nothing to do with what they were attending for. No one seemed to be upset, no one seemed to even be thinking about why Maria had chosen these works of art to hang on the walls or whether or not Howard had liked shrimp. 

Finally, he found Tony in one of the rooms off the gallery. He was standing just the way his father had, leaning one hand on the bar and pointing with the one finger of the other hand not engaged in holding a glass of whisky. He seemed to be saying something he thought was very funny, but the expressions on the other men in the room weren’t as amused as Tony’s. In the back corner, Obie looked pleased, but Bucky ignored that. Obie had always been strange.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky said, stepping into the room. “Why don’t you come with me and we can find something to eat. I haven’t eaten yet and I’m pretty sure that Noé made the scallops you like."

“Jaaaaames, there you are,” Tony drawled. “I was wondering when you’d show up. You never can leave me alone, can you? I was just saying to …” He peered at the group of men. “… to the board here that we should keep working on Father’s projects, you know how he loved to keep going on something even when there wasn’t any point anymore.”

Bucky slid his arm around Tony’s waist. “You can come and tell me more about it on the way to the buffet table. Here,” he reached for the glass Tony was holding. “Let me have that, yes, thank you, I’ll just set it here.” He put the glass down on the bar and nodded at the bartender to take it away. “And now we can go.” 

Tony followed along for a couple of steps, then tried to turn back. “But I was saying something…”

Bucky tightened his grip. “I’m sure you were, but you’ll be able to keep talking later.”

As he half-dragged Tony out of the room, he heard Obie say, “Oh, that’s just one of Tony’s little friends. He won’t stand in the way at all, nothing to worry about.”

Bucky managed to get Tony set up at a table and he dashed off to get them plates of food, making sure to put lots of the bacon-wrapped scallops on Tony’s plate. When he got back to where he’d left Tony, he’d managed to get another large glass of alcohol – this was clear, with a long skewer-ful of alternating olives and little onions.

“Tony, you have to stop drinking.” Bucky set the plate down.

“I don’t. It’s my parents’ funeral, I can do whatever I want.” Tony looked sullen, then saw the scallops. “Oh, thanks! Just what I wanted.” He took a swig of the drink and shoved a bite into his mouth. 

Bucky took a sip from the glass of soda he’d picked up from the bar. “Tony, you’re drunk. I know you miss your parents. I miss them, too. But they’d hate to see you like this.”

Tony’s face fell. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do you think Father wasn’t the one who taught me to drink?”

Just then, James Rhodes stepped out of the crowd. Tony surged up and threw himself at the man, hugging him tightly. Bucky tried to keep his emotions off his face. Tony was allowed to have friends. Just because Bucky wished Tony would react to him the way he did to Rhodes didn’t mean that he could be a jerk to the other man. He was Tony’s best friend.

“I’m very sorry,” Rhodes said to Bucky, holding out a hand. “I know they were your family as well.”

Bucky felt unexpected tears rise and he blinked hard. “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. “That means a lot.”

“Rhodey,” Tony moaned. “What’m I gonna do now?” He slumped down in his chair and reached for his glass, but Rhodes picked it up and sniffed it.

“Well, you’re not drinking this paint thinner, that’s for sure.” He set the glass on the tray of a passing attendant and tugged at Tony’s arm. “Let’s see if we can find someplace more private?” 

Tony stood up and turned to follow him. Before they left, Rhodes turned back to Bucky. “I’ve got it from here. You can stop worrying about him now.”

 _No I can’t. What the hell._

Late that night, Bucky sat up in his old bedroom, staring out the window at the view of the street and park. The door creaked as it opened and he turned to see Tony stumble through.

“I hoped you’d still be here,” he whispered. 

“I am,” Bucky said, lifting his arm so Tony could fit himself under it. They sat silently for several minutes, both looking out the window.

“What are you going to do?” Bucky asked.

“What do you think? I’m head of Stark Industries now. I’ve got responsble … responsibilities.”

Bucky tipped his head down to look at him. “Responsibilities? To whom?”

“The shareholders. Obie explained it to me.” Tony sighed and leaned harder into Bucky’s side. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. He’s _dead_ , Bucky and he never finished it. He never found the _Captain_ , he never finished the battery thing, he never… and now I have to do it. I can’t let it just stop, can I? I mean, he’d hate me even more if I—” 

“Hate you? Who are you talking about?”

Tony peered at Bucky. “Father, of course.”


	26. Wait, What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered, but they're a renewable resource.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent all last week writing like a demon - I finished a 56K word original novel. I should be back to posting regularly here, now that I'm out from under that deadline.

2012

Bucky blinked, not sure he’d heard Pepper correctly. “You’ve never… but what about—”

Pepper sighed deeply and ran a hand over her face. “Please sit down. It’s clear that we have a lot more to deal with than I thought.” After Bucky sank into the chair her feet had been propped on, she leaned forward and took his hand. “James. I love Tony very much, but he’s like the obnoxious brother I never got to have. He’s a dreadful flirt – in all meanings of the word dreadful – and I’m sure he’d have been more than happy to follow through on his flirtations, but I don’t love him that way.” She paused and looked at him soberly. “And I don’t have sex with married men.”

“I—how did you know we were married? He never told anyone.”

Her eyebrows rose slowly. “You do know he’s a celebrity, right? And his father was one before him? He was famous before the war, even.” 

Bucky nodded, completely at sea.

“So, people follow celebrity news. When you got married, there were all sorts of newspaper articles about it and reports about the clothes everyone wore and where he’d met you and… you _must_ have known this, right?”

“Uh.” Bucky felt monumentally stupid. “No? I never really thought about it.”

“How can you not have—you run a charity organization which depends on rich donors…” She took a deep breath. “We can address that part later.”

“So, you watched the wedding on TV?” He hadn’t taken her for a celebrity hunter, but he didn’t really know her well.

She snorted. “Me? No. My _mother_ on the other hand, absolutely yes. I mean,” she shrugged. “She didn’t actually watch your wedding, because Tony’s father was strict about not allowing cameras in, but she read all the articles she could find about it.” Pepper looked distantly over Bucky’s shoulder. “She spent everything but the rent money on gossip rags until I started keeping the household money from her.”

“Oh.” Bucky heard all the things Pepper wasn’t saying. “I’m sorry.”

She lifted a shoulder and dropped it, her hands still cradling his. “Not your problem. But it did mean that I knew very well Tony was married when I met him. And, regardless of anything else I might have felt about him, I don’t poach.”

Bucky shifted on the chair and she squeezed his hand before releasing it. “So, if you’re not planning on being with him after we get divorced—”

“Wait. Why do you think he wants to divorce you?”

Bucky looked away, toward the TV screen, now showing Captain America punching his way through what looked like a wall made of gigantic sea-stars. The camera panned up and re-focused on Hawkeye, who appeared to be hopping from the back of one dolphin-sized flying fish to another, all while shooting flaming arrows. “Weird,” Bucky said, “I guess this one’s an ocean baddie.”

She glanced at the screen and sighed. “Do you think that the frequency of supervillains is increasing because there are more superheroes, or do you think that we’re just lucky to have superheroes?” 

“Dunno.” Bucky stood up and moved back to where he’d started filling his plate with dinner. “But I’m sure we didn’t have anything like this when I was a kid.”

She was still watching the screen. “I’m not sure. Red Skull was in World War Two, so there was something…”

“Yeah, but there was Captain America to balance him out.” 

Her eyes moved to his face. “True.” She took a deep breath and leaned forward to grab the bowl of salad. “He doesn’t want to divorce you.”

Bucky shrugged. “I guess.”

“Tony is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” She ate a bite of her dinner. “And giving you up would be incredibly, fantastically stupid.”

“Pepper, he’s never once in his life said that he likes me, let alone loves me.” The memory of Tony, drunk and stumbling, saying exactly that just five floors up, flashed through Bucky’s mind, but he ignored it. Believing what someone said when they were too drunk to stand was idiotic.

“He’s bad with emotions, you should know that.”

He shoved his fork through the sauce on his plate. “I’m tired of waiting to be enough for him.” He caught her twitch and snapped, “Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, it doesn’t matter.” He set his shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. “He was cheating on me from the time he left for college. He’s never once bothered to learn what I’m interested in, or what I want from life. He’s continued to sleep with anyone who’ll have him – yes, I know he slept with Natasha when she was pretending to be,” he lifted his hand to make air quotes, “ _Natalie Rushman_ , why no one ever realizes it’s her, she always uses the same stupid initials….” He sucked a breath through his teeth. “ _I’m aware_ of who he is.”

She looked desperately sad. “Is sexual infidelity the only thing that makes you believe he doesn’t love you?”

“It’s not enough?”

“Possibly. But if it’s enough for you, why not divorce him years ago? I know you’re not staying with him for the money.”

“I didn’t… I couldn’t give up.” Bucky put his hand over his eyes. 

“And so you’re giving up _now_ , just when he’s—”

Behind Bucky, the TV screen flashed white so brightly that it flared off the reflective surfaces in the room. Pepper gasped and Bucky swung around to see.

The explosion faded to a confused image as the cameraperson struggled to stand back up. Bucky caught a glimpse of what looked like shards of a huge nautilus before the camera view shifted.

The Iron Man suit hung in the air, arms drifting loosely to the sides, head sagging backward, a spray of red-and-gold arcing into the air above Tony’s chest like a bizarre scattering of jewels all touched with the faintest tinge of electric blue. He drifted gently, feet rising slowly, toppling over backward.

The incredibly excited face of the news reporter filled the screen. “And that’s Iron Man floating there, we can’t see if he’s alive yet. His jet-boots aren’t firing, but they could any minute now. Oh look, Captain America is gesturing and pointing, maybe he can tell if there’s someone near enough to catch Iron Man—”

“JARVIS,” Pepper snapped, “ _cut that off!!_ ” The screen went black.

Bucky couldn’t breathe. He kept trying to suck in air, but there wasn’t any. The corners of the room faded to dark gray and his heart stuttered in his chest. He felt one last constriction and it stopped entirely.

“—mes, you need to look at me. _James!_ ”

He blinked. A pretty woman with pale red hair crouched in front of him, her gray-blue eyes worried. Bucky coughed and closed his eyes; his heart pounded and he could feel the blood shifting sluggishly through his body.

“Tony?” he choked.

“James, please look at me.” 

Bucky opened his eyes. Pepper was holding his face gently, long fingers tapping his cheekbones. “I’m here, Pepper. Is Tony alive?”

“Can you sit up for me please?” She helped him move and propped him against something hard. “Good. Now keep breathing for me.” Pepper turned and snapped something over her shoulder, but all he could hear was noise. She turned back to him. “Good, good. Keep breathing. In and out. Do you think you can stand up?”

“Tony. _Tony?_ ” He tried to wave his arms but something was wrong with his left arm. It didn’t matter. 

For some reason, Pepper looked exasperated. “I can’t reach into your chest like I did his, okay? You have to keep breathing and keep moving on your own.” She reached around his back and tugged at him. “If you stand up, we can get going to the hospital. They’ll be there in about five minutes.” 

Bucky heaved forward onto his hands but fell off to the left. _Right. My left arm is gone._ He ignored Pepper’s distressed sound and rolled onto his back before finally remembering how to make his body move. 

The elevator dropped like a stone and JARVIS said “Five seconds to deceleration.” Bucky didn’t know what he meant and staggered hard, slamming his left side into the metal wall when the elevator stopped falling. The doors opened and he ignored the throb in his left shoulder in favor of charging out into the waiting area. 

“Is he alive?” he gasped to the woman in the green scrubs standing near the elevators. 

“They’re all coming in now, sir,” she reported sharply. “If you’ll just come through here—” 

“I have to see him, you have to let me see him.” 

The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry Mr. Barnes, but no one can be in the operating room except medical staff.” 

“I’m his soul mate,” Bucky gasped. “Please, just… can I just see him?” 

Her face softened. “I really am sorry. I can ask the surgeon, but there isn’t room for anyone extra.” She gestured to a small room with comfortable chairs, a TV screen currently showing an old episode of a David Attenborough documentary with the sound off, a window overlooking Manhattan to the south, and a door leading through to the medical areas. “If you wait here, I’ll see if the surgeon can send someone out with more information.” 

Bucky turned to Pepper. “What’s… why won’t they let me see him?” 

She took his arm and drew him into the waiting room. “It’s possible he’s not even here yet. I’m not sure where they were fighting.” She sat down and started tapping her phone, leaving Bucky to wander the room and glare helplessly at the seals spiraling through the water on the TV screen. 

Bucky never knew how long he waited. Eventually, Pepper had someone bring fruit and snacks to their room. 

“Mr. Barnes?” A doctor came through the door, scrubs stained and sagging. “I understand you want to see Mr. Stark?” 

Bucky shot to his feet and swayed as his blood pressure dropped. “Yes,” he said, as firmly as he was able. “Now, please.” 

The doctor looked at him critically, then glanced at Pepper, who just waved a hand. “Follow me. You’ll have to follow strict decontamination procedures as his chest is still open, but having his soul mate close should help his system remain functional.” 

Bucky submitted to being scrubbed and cleaned and then dressed in three layers of sterile clothing. When he got to the operating theater he paused, pulled in a deep breath through his masks, and let one of the surgical nurses guide him through the tangle of equipment and people to a place where he could stand and see Tony. 

Tony’s face was the worst mixture of gray and white; Bucky bit his lips to keep from screaming. He looked dead. Only the regular beeping sound from the heart monitor indicated life. “Oh Tony,” Bucky whispered. 

The sound from the heart monitor sped up slightly and two of the surgical team glanced his way. One nodded, then bent closer, working at something Bucky couldn’t see. Whatever it was, the injuries were concentrated on the right side of his body; Bucky _could_ see red lines radiating away from the center of Tony’s chest. 

“Come on, Tony, you can do this. You’re strong. You can do anything you want to.” Bucky clenched his fist, wishing he could touch Tony, wishing he could help, wishing he could do anything other than stand here. 

The doctors moved smoothly around each other and soon it looked like they were nearly done. They wiped each finished area clean and let the team of surgical nurses follow behind with bandages and wrappings. Before Bucky could believe it, the doctor who’d brought him into the room was waving him out. Bucky shook his head – he didn’t want to leave – but the doctor pointed forcefully and an orderly tapped Bucky on the shoulder. 

“You can see him in his room, in a few minutes,” the orderly said. “Please leave through the decontamination side.” He pointed to a door and Bucky gave in. 

Pepper was already in Tony’s room, sitting comfortably on a small loveseat against a strangely segmented wall. She looked up as Bucky came in. 

“Is he okay?” 

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, then caught the sob just before it took over. He pressed his eyes closed, breathed, then said, “I think so. They said he’d be here soon, so…” 

She nodded. “Steve was injured, but he’s healing quickly, as usual. I believe that Clint’s got another broken arm and Natasha is just bruised.” She checked her phone. “Bruce is recovering on another floor and will come upstairs when he’s calmed down.” 

“Thank you,” Bucky said. He sat down in a side chair and ran his hand through his hair. “You’ve done this before?” 

She lifted a shoulder. “There’ve been a few small… events, let’s just call them, since the Chitauri attack. They don’t get easier, but the first is hardest.” She was silent for a moment. “Tony doesn’t usually get injured.” 

Then the door slammed open and Tony was wheeled into the center of the room, his bed tilted up so his head was slightly higher than his feet. A swarm of medical staff buzzed around, setting things up, then a doctor surfaced from the group and headed for Pepper. 

We’ve—” 

“You should be telling this to Tony’s husband,” Pepper said, nodding at Bucky. 

The doctor looked startled, but swiveled to face Bucky. “We’ve stabilized him and sewn closed the lacerations, punctures, and various abrasions he suffered. He’s going to have to get someone else to work on his reactor; that’s out of my area.” He glanced over his shoulder. “He shouldn’t wake up for several hours, but you can continue to wait here if you choose.” 

>Bucky watched him go, then turned to Pepper. “What did he mean ‘ his reactor’?” 


	27. Anniversaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time moves forward, relentlessly.

April 1992

“What do you mean, do I want the couch from the upstairs lounge?” Bucky tucked the phone handset tighter between his ear and shoulder and poked at the eggs frying in the pan. “Why would I want it? Doesn’t it live, I don’t know – in the upstairs lounge?”

“It did,” Tony said, tinny through the phone, “but since the next time anyone’s going to see it, it’ll be hopelessly out of style, I thought I should give you first crack.”

Bucky put the spatula down and looked at the phone, as if that would give him a hint to what Tony was talking about. “Tony,” he said, “why is no one going to see the furniture?”

Tony sighed and Bucky felt a jolt of amusement; he could practically see Tony’s rolled eyes. “I’m having the mansion closed. I—we don’t live there any more and it’s too big for us, anyway.” There was a burst of static and Tony said, clearly to someone else, “Yes, the Picasso’s coming with me, but leave the Bierstadt.”

“No, wait, is that the one with the big mountain and little island?” 

“Yeah, _Island in the Lake_ , why?”

“Can I have that one?” Bucky paused. “Where are you putting the Picasso?”

“Cover all of those, but don’t bother with the next two rooms, those’re being emptied. What?” The sound from Tony’s side dulled, and Bucky thought he must have walked out of the gallery. “Oh, I want it in the front hall of my flat, for now. I’ll be putting it in the living room in Malibu.”

Any amusement Bucky’d felt faded. “Tony, we’ve talked about this. I don’t understand why you want to move to California, of all places.”

“You don’t have to come.” Tony’s voice was cavalier. “But I’ve got plans for my life and they don’t include staying stuck here forever.”

“Are you even building space for me?” Bucky hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud and kind of hated himself for the plaintive sound in his voice.

“You can have a whole wing, if you want.” Tony sounded pleased, which confused Bucky. “Do you want the ocean view or the mountain?”

“I—” Bucky managed to trap the rest of that sentence behind his teeth and, after a quick gasp, changed ‘was hoping we could share’ to, “think I’d like the ocean, thanks. Will there be room for the Bierstadt?”

“Can be,” Tony said. “Look, I’ve got to go, I was just calling in passing. I’ll be out of the country for the next couple days, Obie’s got me taking all the meetings in Europe he had scheduled for the year.” He paused. “I uh. Sorry about forgetting your birthday. Want to have the Bierstadt, as a belated gift?”

“I—yes, I guess. Thanks.” Bucky didn’t know how to feel. Tony hadn’t remembered most of his birthdays, and having him half-remember this one made his chest ache.

“I’ll have it sent over with all the papers.” There was a short pause, then Tony continued. “I’ll be back in town by the end of the week.” He hung up without saying anything else leaving Bucky listening to the dial tone.

Bucky turned the stove off and sat down, letting his head fall to the table. “What’s going on, Tony?”

May 29, 1992

Bucky was pretty sure that Tony wasn’t expecting him to show up for his birthday, but they were _married_ , dammit, and Bucky wanted to spend some time with his husband that wasn’t a late-night drunk hook-up. 

Every time Tony showed up at their flat – the one Maria had carefully chosen for both of them – drunk and handsy, Bucky gave in to Tony’s searching hands and mouth. And every morning, when Tony was gone before Bucky could wake up, he hated himself more. Tony wouldn’t answer his phone calls for at least a week after each visit.

Once, Bucky tried to resist. He managed to get Tony to sit on the couch – he had, in the end, taken the couch from the mansion’s upstairs lounge – and sat across from him. Tony looked ill, when Bucky wasn’t distracted by a haze of lust and suppressed loneliness. 

“Tony,” Bucky said, hands locked together between his knees. “You gotta stop drinking so much.” He winced as Tony’s head snapped up.

“I can do what I want,” Tony said. Bucky thought he was trying to sound angry, but all he sounded was uncertain. “I’m an adul’, I’m the head of a bill’on doll’r fucking company, I’m the son of How’rd Stark, I am king of the world.” He stood up, staggered for a second, then spun around to face Bucky. “If you don’ want me, you can just say, you know. There’s lotsa people who’ll let me fuck them.”

Bucky, filled with images of Tony fucking all those other people, stood and dragged Tony hard against him, crashing their faces together in a violent kiss. If this was the only way he could have Tony, then he’d take it.

After a long moment, Tony pulled away and licked his lips. His feral smile seemed oddly sad. “Just for me, huh? Come on, then. You know you want me.” 

But now, Bucky sat at the table he’d reserved near the back, private and intimate, and waited. Tony hadn’t said he’d come, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t. Bucky’d even brought a small cake to the kitchen in advance. 

After half an hour, the waiter brought a refill for Bucky’s sparkling water and asked if he wanted them to bring out the bread. Bucky started to shake his head, then sat back. _He’s not coming. Why pretend?_

“You know what,” Bucky said, “yes, bring the bread and I’ll have the prix fixe meal with the fish and fruit courses.” He sat back and glanced around the room, watching the way the other diners leaned into each other, or shifted so they were facing slightly away. “At least there’s an interesting view,” he muttered. 

The waiter returned with his bread and the aperitif, a brilliantly red concoction of campari and bitters. 

“Here you are, sir,” he said. He lifted his eyes slowly and let them drift over Bucky’s shoulders, then drop to his hands. “If you need anything special this evening, please do call on me.”

Bucky waited until he’d left before snorting to himself. _Well. At least I’m not invisible._

That evening, back in his apartment, he set the gift he’d bought for Tony – a book of beautiful photos taken through an electron microscope – on the bed in the second bedroom. He crawled into his own bed and tried to decide if being ignored was better than being dismissed directly.

Dec 16, 1993

“James, how are you?” Edwin’s voice was thinner than it had been, and Bucky had to sit down hard. 

“Fine, fine, uh. How are you?” Bucky insisted that he couldn’t very well ask when Edwin had gotten old, after all.

“A little stiffer than usual, but I’ll be fine.” He paused and Bucky could practically see his thoughtful expression. “I was calling to see if you would like to come to dinner this week?”

“Always, Edwin, you know that.” Bucky stood back up and wandered to the window of his office, feeling the cord tug on the phone base still on his desk. He’d chosen this building for the actual office not because it was close to the best hot dog guy in New York, no matter what Reese said, but because he could, if he looked in the right direction, catch a glimpse of the mansion and of the upper windows where he used to sit and watch the park.

“Master Stark will be home next Wednesday evening. Will you be coming to meet him?”

Bucky glanced at the calendar and froze. “Oh. I hadn’t realized how close we were to the anniversary.”

“Quite. I believe that, despite what he might say, Master Stark would appreciate the company of someone who truly understands his feelings. Especially right now.”

“I’ll be there.” Bucky rubbed his eyes. _How has it been two years already?_ “Has he, uh. Has he said anything about me? I haven’t heard from him while he was flying through Asia.”

Edwin’s voice sounded very dry. “I’m afraid that he’s been keeping busy and hasn’t had much time to discuss anything with me.”  
_In other words, he’s been fucking his way through the entirety of Japan and Korea. It’s not like that’s unexpected._ “Right. Well. When should I come to see you and Ana? Is she walking at all, or is she permanently in the chair?”

“We have moved to a ground floor flat,” Edwin said. “She has been spending much of her time finishing her sewing projects.”

Bucky winced. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to seeing what she’s made for me. I wear the vest with all the pockets all the time.” He collapsed in his chair. “When should I come for dinner and what should I bring?”

The next Wednesday, Bucky followed Edwin into Tony’s penthouse apartment and looked around. Tony had brought him here when he’d first gotten it, and then every so often when he had dinner parties or, confusingly, once when he insisted that he just wanted to cuddle. It was large, with wide open spaces and floor-to-ceiling windows in all the public areas. 

Just as Bucky was turning to ask Edwin if he was sure Tony’d want him here, Tony himself stormed through the apartment door. 

“—and tell her that there’s no fucking way she’s getting that car. My father—” His voice caught, then he saw Bucky and his face crumpled. “Just tell her no.” He hung up the portable phone he’d bragged about for a month and threw it to the couch. “Why are you here?”

Bucky stepped forward and reached for him. At first, Tony struggled, but then he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s back, shoved his face into Bucky’s neck and wailed, “Why are you here? Why don’t you just stay away, like you’re supposed to? What are you doing…?”

As Edwin slipped past them and out the door, Tony’s hands closed into fists in the back of Bucky’s jacket. “I hate you. I hate all of this.” Bucky felt Tony’s breath heave and catch under his hands and he pressed a kiss to Tony’s head. 

“I miss them as well.”

June 17, 1995

“Hey.” Bucky looked up and saw Joe leaning through his office door. “I’m going home. It’s my night to make dinner and Tania wants spaghetti.”

“And that little girl should get spaghetti,” Bucky grinned. “Don’t complain when everything she touches gets stained with tomatoes, though.”

Joe snorted. “Ugh. That’s the worst part. It’s pretty funny to watch her try to eat them with her fingers, though.”

“Get going. I’ll see you on Monday.” Bucky smiled at Joe’s back as he left the office, flicking all but the reception lights off as he went. Bucky sighed and turned back to his computer. He had to get this grant proposal finished before Monday and he was behind.

A phone rang and, without looking, he lifted the handset. The dial tone blared into his ear and he winced. “What the—” He could still hear a phone ringing and finally traced the sound to his jacket pocket. “Oh shit.” He fished out the cellular phone Tony had insisted he take and pressed the button.

“And finally,” Tony said. 

“I couldn’t figure out why my phone was ringing but all I could hear was the dial tone.” 

Tony laughed. “Good stuff, isn’t it? No more cords!” He sounded a little muted, but happy. “I want you to come out to the coast. I’ve got something to show you.” 

Bucky looked around his office. “What, _now?_ I’m swamped.”

“What could you possibly be doing? Come on, it’s just for a bit. Soon you’ll be moving out here anyway, you said. That’s why you wanted the whole wing, after all, wasn’t it? Anyway, no, not just this minute. I’ll have a plane come for you next Friday, how does that sound?”

“Friday?” Bucky shoved papers around on his desk to uncover his desk calendar. “Sure, I guess I can make it then. How long should I tell my staff I’ll be gone?”

“As long as you like.” There was a clinking sound and something watery behind Tony’s words. Bucky wondered if his mood was because he’d been drinking or because he was about to start drinking.

“Tony—” 

“Not now, gotta go. Lots to do if I’m going to be ready by the time you get here. Only a week.” Tony hung up and left Bucky staring at the little screen, not sure if he needed to hang up as well.

Bucky chuckled, amused at getting to play with one of Tony’s new tricks, then bent over his keyboard. If he was going to be away from his company for any time, he should catch up with everything while he could.

The flight to California was calm. Bucky hadn’t known if Tony was going to be on the flight to meet him or if he was going to be alone. Walking across the tarmac to the plane, Bucky snorted. Trust Tony to have the fanciest plane in the airport. 

After takeoff, Bucky strolled up to the cockpit and stuck his head through. Both pilots looked around at him.

“Can I help you, sir,” asked the co-pilot.

“Just looking around. I loved planes when I was a kid.” Bucky stepped all the way into the cockpit. “This looks new.”

The pilot smirked at him. “It’s just had its type certification and Mr. Stark swiped it out from under Arnold Palmer. It’s a Citation X.”

Bucky snorted. “Sounds like him. Is it fun to fly?”

The rest of the flight passed in happy chatter about the plane, and about different flying adventures the pilots had either experienced or had heard about. 

On the ground, Bucky was met by a limo, but still no Tony. Bucky leaned back and let his eyes fall closed. The time difference was just enough to make him tired and he didn’t want to fall asleep as soon as he saw Tony.

Finally, the limo wound past a gate and up a curving drive to a big white house, half set into the cliffside. 

Tony met him at the car and gestured broadly out over the house and ocean view, which was spectacular.

“Well?” Tony looked up at him, smiling broadly. “Happy five years, husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So here we go. The research part.
> 
> I love Bierstadt. This was totally an excuse to look at his art. [_Island in the Lake_](https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-6141203) never fails to give me chills. 
> 
> There _absolutely was_ a cell phone with a _screen_ in 1995. I'm sure Tony was already working on making it obsolete. [IBM Simon](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_Simon)
> 
> And the [Cessna Citation X](https://www.jetcraft.com/jetstream/2014/07/cessna-citation-x-1995-present/) was the first Cessna with Rolls Royce engines. I'm sure that Tony would be delighted to scoop Palmer's plane out from under him.


	28. Back to Square Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of questions and not so many answers.

2012

Pepper looked blank. “Wait—” 

“ _What_ reactor?” He took a step away from Tony’s bed and felt his lungs pinch.

“You—he didn’t tell you?”

“ _Obviously not._ ” Bucky tried to cross his arms, then dropped his right arm when his left one was still missing. 

Pepper rubbed her face with both hands, then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out her ponytail and massaging her scalp. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Tony, what are you doing?” She leaned her elbows on her knees and dropped her head forward. “James, I’m so sorry, but I really can’t tell you. It’s not mine to tell.” 

He pressed toward her, away from Tony, and hissed, “And you wonder why I think he wants to divorce me.”

“Divorce you? Tony doesn’t want to divorce—” 

Bucky swung around at the new voice to see Bruce, leaning heavily against the door jamb. He looked exhausted. After a moment, he shuffled forward and collapsed into one of the other chairs in the room. 

“You can open the wall if you want,” he said to Pepper. “The rest are just about ready.”

_Open the wall?_ Bucky twitched as the wall behind Pepper started to shift and he realized that the weird segmentations were hinges. The wall slid smoothly to the side revealing another room with several hospital-ish beds, a couch, and sets of small tables and chairs. Steve was half lying back on the couch, Thor sat on the other end, leaning back with his eyes closed. 

“What the fuck?”

Clint backed into the other room, his right arm in a cast, followed closely by Natasha, pushing a rolling table with coffee urns and cups next to a large pile of paper-wrapped sandwiches. 

“No, really,” Bucky tried again. “What the fuck. What, do you just hang out together in the hospital?”

Steve rolled his head to the side. “Until Tony wakes up, yeah. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Bruce coughed and leaned forward. “I have a more pressing question. James, why did you say that Tony wants to divorce you?”

“WHAT?” Steve rose up out of the couch then fell back, hand pressed to his ribs. Thor’s face filled with dismay, but Clint looked unsurprised.

“I’m wondering why you don’t divorce him, actually.” His tone was slightly defiant and Bucky huffed. 

“I would enjoy knowing the story of your meeting,” Thor said, his voice loud enough to cover Nat snapping at Clint. 

Bucky stepped back, jolting when the metal guard on the side of Tony’s bed hit him in the kidneys. He felt something cold and hard slide up his spine, the same thing that had kept him going when his dad had beaten his mom, and that had kept him moving when Tony had gone missing and no one else seemed to care.

“No,” he said. “No. You don’t get to make this about me. I am not any of your business.” He took a deep breath and walked toward the door. “I’m… I’m glad you’re all fine.” He pushed through the door and strode down the corridor, concentrating on keeping his breathing even and deep. 

“James!” Pepper called from the door, sounding distressed, but Bucky just kept walking. 

Back on his own floor, he packed a bag with enough clothes to last a week, the book he was in the middle of reading, and Maria’s snowglobes, then waited anxiously at the elevator, hoping that he wasn’t going to face all of Tony’s friends just to get out. 

“Thank fuck,” he whispered as the doors opened on an empty elevator. On the way down, JARVIS made a slight sound. “What?” Bucky snapped.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” JARVIS’ voice was quiet. “But Sir will want to know—”

“Don’t call him that,” Bucky snarled. “Don’t. You never called him _sir_. His name is Tony, or Master Stark. Mister, I guess, now that Howard’s well dead. But never _sir_.” Bucky’s hands clenched on the handle of his duffle bag.

“Do you wish to leave any message?”

“No. I think we’ve had enough messages.”

He stepped out of the elevator and into Grand Central, part of the stress falling from his shoulders as he moved into the groups of people making their way through the terminal. Bucky moved on autopilot, catching a train to Brooklyn and waiting, head empty, for his stop. When he trudged up the steps to the surface, he realized it was some time in the middle of the night.

The next morning, he stumbled downstairs to the kitchen and set the coffeemaker to working. “Well.” He looked around the room and out into the living room. “I guess that went about as well as could be expected.”

He made it through half his workday before Reese came into his office and shut the door.

“Look, I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, resting his hip on the edge of Bucky’s desk, “but whatever it is, it’s checked you out.” He shrugged at Bucky’s glare. “We’ve got this. It’s okay. Cath’s got the week’s appointments already rescheduled, I’ve got time for the meetings with the west coast donors, and Joe’s gone over the apartment and flat arrangements. Go home.”

“I’ve got to—”

Reese shook his head. “You don’t got to do anything, dude. Just stop.” The office was silent for a moment. “I know it’s to do with your soul – with Iron Man. I was watching the news.”

Bucky flinched. 

“He’s okay, right?” Reese looked worried.

“I guess. They said he was going to wake up soon.”

“You were in touch with him?” Reese held his hands up. “Wait, no, sorry, I didn’t ask.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes and tipped his head back. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m such a jerk about this.” He sighed. “I saw him, we talked, things are mostly the same as ever.”

“Well that sucks,” Reese said and Bucky snorted. 

“Fine. I’ll go home.”

On the way, Bucky stopped into the bodega on the corner and gathered the things he’d need for soup. It was wintertime, he felt like shit, clearly soup was the right choice. He petted the bodega cat as his stuff was rung up by the pretty dark-skinned girl behind the counter.

“Hey, Trina,” Bucky said. “Back from school?”

She nodded and shoved his things into the cloth bag he’d handed her. “Yeah, for Christmas. Mom’s lonely since Poppa died.” She shrugged. “I wish she’d move to California to live near me, but she won’t leave the city.”

Bucky shook his head, handing over the cash to pay and heaving the bag over his shoulder. “Keep the change for your college fund, kiddo. And you know real New Yorkers never leave.”

Trina looked bitter. “I just want her further from the Avengers. I know that bad guys can happen anywhere, but still.” Her eyes flicked toward his left shoulder then back up to his face.

“I can see your point,” he said. “Have a good holiday, if I don’t see you before. Tell your mom I said hi.”

The soup turned out to be exactly what he wanted. He ate a large bowl of it, then curled up on the couch with a book. Outside, the clear sky was dark against the lights of the buildings and he set the book aside, letting his head fall back and pretending the flickering of his neighbors lights were stars.

He woke up in the middle of the night, his neck pinched from sleeping slumped over against the arm of the couch and trundled upstairs.

The next morning, he lay in bed staring at his ceiling. “I’m not going in,” he said, and rolled onto his feet. After a long shower, he tugged on comfortable clothes, grabbed his keys and took himself out for breakfast.

“Can I share this table?”

Bucky looked up, then all the way up, and sighed. Steve stood half a step away from Bucky’s table, his expression a mixture of worry and chagrin.

“What—no, fine. Whatever. Have a seat.” Bucky shoved the chair across from him away from the table with his foot. 

Steve lowered himself into the seat and hunched down. “Uh, Nat said—” 

“What can I getcha?” The waitress stood waiting, her pad open.

“He’ll have the Tex-Mex Omelette and a Monte Cristo. And bring a pot of coffee, thanks.” As the waitress jotted down her notes and walked away, Bucky stared at Steve, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“You were saying about Nat?” Bucky said, leaning back.

“She said that you’d probably be here.” Steve glanced around. “This place seems nice.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed. “What do you want?”

Steve looked down at his hands, clasped tightly on the table. “We—I was worried about you. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Tony—” He held his hands up, a few inches off the table, then let them settle back down. “I know, it’s none of my business. But still.” He leaned back as the waitress returned with a black carafe of coffee and another cup.

“So you and Nat decided that stalking was the right option? I expect that sort of thing from Natasha, but not from you.”

Steve’s shoulders rose. “When I was—no, that’s. Soul mates have changed. I don’t mean the connection itself, but how people treat it has changed, and I’m not sure it’s for the better.”

Bucky glowered at his own omelette. “Right. Back when you were a tot, soul mates were always perfect together and everyone was always in love and there weren’t ever any problems. Everything was just big and romantic.” He tossed his fork down onto the plate. 

Steve leaned forward and touched Bucky’s arm. “No, no that’s not what I mean at all. It was _different_. Oh—” The waitress arrived with his breakfast and Bucky felt a jolt of amusement at Steve’s wide eyes. “Thank you, this is huge.”

“It’s what we’re known for,” she said, smiling. “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

Bucky waited until Steve had put a bite of his omelette in his mouth. “But that’s a fucking lie, Steve. I’ve done years of research into this and—” 

Steve swallowed hard and said, slightly too loud, “No. What I mean is that soul mates weren’t always forced into romantic connections. Sure, I wanted to have one, but that’s not because everything was big dumb romance. It’s because I’m a big dumb romantic.”

Bucky snorted and Steve smiled, relief flashing across his face. “But everyone knew someone whose soul mate was in love with someone else. They—we worked things out. I don’t know when things changed, but it’s not better.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “If that’s true, it doesn’t show up in most of the records.”

Steve shrugged, forking the last of his omelette into his mouth and pulling the plate with the Monte Cristo closer. “It wasn’t something people really kept records of,” he said. “No one was tracking who you lived with or how you arranged your personal business. Sure, there were times when you’d have to make sure that Mister Kolowski didn’t go home when his missus was drunk, and stuff like that, but it was just… people worked it out for themselves.”

“That… huh.” Bucky drained his coffee cup and refilled it, waggling the pot over Steve’s cup to ask if he wanted more. “So, Peggy wasn’t…?”

Steve looked sad. “She and I would have, if things had turned out right.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Howard hadn’t met his wife before I…crashed.”

“I don’t know when they met. I never bothered to find out.” 

“And he didn’t spend time with his son?” Steve’s voice was quiet. 

Bucky sighed. “You know what? This isn’t a conversation to have here. Wanna come over and play?”

Steve snorted. “Is that how you made friends in, what was it, the eighties?”

Bucky flagged down the waitress and handed her his credit card. “Me? Naw. I made friends by punching the bullies before they could punch anyone else.” 

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Great! That sounds just like me.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Let me pay you for my half.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, signing the slip the waitress had left on the table. “I’m Howard’s other son. Do you think I can’t afford to feed you?”

Steve looked like he’d walked into a pole. “You’re… well, fucking shit.” He followed Bucky to the sidewalk, then said, in a very low voice, “So you’re not staying with Tony for the money?”

Bucky swung around, his pleasant mood ruined. “What the actual fuck kind of question is that?”

Steve backed up. “No one knows anything about you and Tony.”

“Did Tony tell you that?”

“Tony didn’t say anything.” Steve paused. “Well, what he said is that you were ‘off limits’.”

“… ‘off limits’?” Bucky twitched backward. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know. None of us knew. And you never said much – you didn’t seem to want to be there. I was the one you were friendliest with, but even then, it was clear that you weren’t really interested.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Can you blame me?”

Steve sighed. “Not really. But I would like to be friends with you. We can punch bullies together?” He looked hopeful.

“Fine. Just—fine. Look. My place is that way, come on.”

“You’re still inviting me in?”

Bucky looked him dead in the eyes. “Tony doesn’t know where I live.”

“Ah.” Steve walked quietly for half a block, then said, “I’m good at covert ops.”

“Steve, you’re half the size of a tank. You’re not covert.”

“Yeah, but no one ever thinks I can lie.” He beamed at Bucky, his broadest, blandest, most commercial smile. “Captain America would never tell a lie.”

Outside Bucky’s building, Steve paused and looked up and down the street. “You own the block?”

“No, just this and the two neighboring buildings.” He led the way up the stairs. “The downstairs flat is mostly empty and I’ve got the rest of this building. The other two get rented out through a low-income program through the city.”

Steve looked around the living room, interestedly. He walked to the window and peered out. “Do you know much about Tony’s work?”

Bucky shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the couch. “No. I’ve stayed pretty far out of his business.”

Steve nodded, still looking at the view. “You’ve a lot more in common with him than you think.” He turned around. “So, how did Howard fuck things up so badly? He wasn’t a bad friend. I’m surprised to hear he was a bad parent.”

Bucky handed Steve a bottle of beer and took a sip from his own. “I think Howard just didn’t know what to do with a kid. Tony was… is very smart and Howard didn’t think about the fact that book smarts aren’t the same thing as life experience.”


	29. Storm On the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony at a party, and things aren't always what they seem. People certainly aren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get my fannish tumblr back up and running! Come and chat with me!
> 
> [Stasia, online](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stasiaonline)

1996

Bucky adjusted his cuffs and stepped out into the room, pausing for a moment to look at the crowd. The sounds of people laughing, glasses clattering behind the bar, and hundreds of conversations all happening at once combined into a slightly loud, but pleasant, cacophony. 

He wasn’t sure why he was here – he got invitations to all of Tony’s events, courtesy of Tony’s latest assistant – but usually he didn’t bother attending. He was going back to New York for the holiday season, though, and had wanted to spend a little time around Tony. 

He didn’t recognize anyone, but it was entertaining enough to people watch, so he filled his plate at the buffet, stopped off at the bar for a glass of soda, and found one of the small tables near the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

While he ate the delicious canapés and sipped, he watched the groups shift and move in the room. There was a dance floor with a small, but dedicated, band as well as a fully equipped DJ. They seemed to be alternating; the band would play something jazzy and wordless for about fifteen minutes, then the DJ took over and played rock.

Just as Bucky caught the eye of a passing waiter, a tall blonde woman stopped at his table.

“Oh, Mr Barnes,” she said. “I didn’t expect – Mr Stark will be pleased to see you here.” 

Bucky smiled up at her and shoved at the back of a chair. “Have a seat, Jennie. We both know he’ll never know, unless I can find him in this crush.” She’d been Tony’s assistant for two years and still seemed to be under the impression that he and Tony were best friends. 

She shook her head. “Oh, I shouldn’t,” she said as she sank down into the seat. “Mr Stark asked me to make sure the band was ready to play something lively.” She flicked a hand at the hovering waiter. “Oh, do go on. Bring Mr Barnes whatever he’s asked for and I’ll take a Manhattan.”

Bucky pressed his lips together for a second. “I hadn’t asked for anything yet.” He turned to the waiter. “I’ll have a gimlet, please.” 

“I don’t know where the caterer found the staff,” Jennie said. “I’ve seen three of them dancing in the side hallway.” She sighed. “I guess the saying is true, you can’t find good help anymore.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with them dancing,” Bucky said. He always forgot how caustic Jennie was under the glossy exterior. “It’s not as if they’re breakdancing in the middle of the dance floor.”

She lit up. “Oh, that would be a fun thing. Maybe for the Easter Gala, we should have a breakdancing troupe perform.” She nodded sharply and took her drink from the waiter’s tray. “I’m certain that Mr Stark would be entertained.”

Bucky sipped his gimlet. “Why don’t you call him Tony?” The past two assistants had called him Tony – and, Bucky was sure, had called him much more intimate things when they’d all been working late.

She pursed her lips. “Mr Stane was very clear when I was hired, that I was not to distract Mr Stark with anything personal.” Jennie looked prim, which sat uncomfortably on her face, then shrugged. “And it wouldn’t be right, being so friendly with my employer.” 

Bucky started to say something, then caught the way her expression shifted as she watched someone in the swirling mass of party attendees. He followed her gaze and found Obie at the other end, arms akimbo on his hips, face lit with laughter, staring down at an ochre-skinned woman in a pale, sheer dress, her hair drawn up into beautiful twists. _Ah, you want Obie instead of Tony. More power to you, lady. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole._

“Why don’t you dance?” he asked.

She flicked him a sharp look. “Oh, I really couldn’t.”

Bucky stood up and held out his hand. “I am entirely certain that you can and should. Come on. Let’s see what mischief we can get up to.”

She glanced at Obie again, blushed slightly, and followed Bucky to the dance floor. She wasn’t a bad dancer, especially when the band was playing, but she seemed stiffer for the rock and roll. 

“I see you’ve commandeered my main support.” Tony grinned as he swung around and past Jennie and Bucky, expertly turning the woman Obie had been smiling at. 

“How about we swap,” Bucky asked, “in case you need the propping up.”

Tony shrugged and stepped away from his partner. “D’you mind, uh…” 

“Candi,” his partner said, sounding tense. “And no, that’s fine.” She stepped closer to Bucky and smiled thinly as Tony swung Jennie off.

“If you don’t mind,” Candi said, “I would rather not dance.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “At all, or—” 

Her head shot up and she looked at him squarely. “Oh! No, I meant at all.” A blush rose over her ochre cheeks. “I never learned to do any formal dances, and I don’t want to stab anyone with these.” She stuck a foot out and waggled the, admittedly very sharp, high heel.

Bucky snorted. “Oh, if that’s all, how are you with dancing to something a little more current? It’s just about time for the band to let the DJ have some time.”

She smiled. “I’m much better at that, but still. My feet are killing me.”

When they were back at his table, she sighed and rolled her ankles. “I know they’re _de rigeur_ , but I’d like to throttle whoever invented these torture devices.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m lucky. All I have to do is wear a noose.”

She snorted. “Right.” 

The waiter returned and lowered his tray toward Bucky, revealing a replacement gimlet and something in a tall glass that Candi brightened to see. 

They chatted for a few minutes, discussing the music and buffet options, then she turned to him. “So, who’re you? I know you’re not part of the charity this all funds.” She waved a hand at the milling donors. “And you seem to know Tony, but you’re not one of his employees.”

Bucky set his glass down. “How do you know all that? Who are _you_?”

She ran a finger through the condensation on the side of her glass and Bucky wondered what she was drinking. “I’m a historian. I was doing research into the SSR and, you know, the _Captain_ and that led me to the Starks.”

Bucky blinked. Over her shoulder, he saw Tony watching them, a tight look on his face. Jennie stood behind him, her expression far more friendly. Bucky sighed. 

“That’s an interesting jump to make.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I just saw someone I’ve got to talk to.” He nodded. “It was nice to meet you.”

“But I never got your name…” She trailed off as he walked into the crowd, deliberately not walking toward Tony. _I wonder what she’s really doing. If she’d done any research into Tony, she’d know who I am._ He washed up near the dessert tables and thoughtfully picked up a plate, scanning the selections.

“There’s a chocolate fountain,” Tony said, from just behind him.

“Ooooh,” Bucky said, turning to him and smiling. Tony’d clearly already visited it; his plate had a puddle of chocolate and the green tops of several strawberries. “Anything else good?”

“What did Candi ask you?”

Bucky turned back to the desserts. “She just wanted more information about you, as usual. Don’t worry.” He found an ice cream station and smiled at the young man behind the counter. “Is that peppermint with real bits of peppermint candy? I’ll have that, thanks, with hot caramel on top. Thanks.” He turned back to Tony. “I didn’t tell her anything. She does think that the band wasn’t a good choice, though.”

Tony shrugged. “I had nothing to do with that.” He set his plate down on the side of the table and a staff member swept it away the second his back was turned. “She didn’t ask anything personal? You didn’t tell her anything?”

Bucky took his bowl of ice cream. “Tony, this isn’t my first time dealing with the press and you. Stop worrying.”

“Right.” Tony turned to face the crowd. “Not bad, huh? I’m thinking of having a couple people come over for the weekend, so don’t be surprised if you hear noises.”

Bucky let the ice cream melt over his tongue, concentrating on its sweetness. When he’d swallowed, he said, careful to keep his tone light, “Tony, I’m going to New York in two days, so I won’t be around to hear anything. Just, ah. Scrape the pizza off the ceiling, right?”

Tony swung to face him, his face suddenly blank. “You’re leaving? I thought—never mind what I thought. Fine. See you whenever.” He stepped away.

“Tony, I told you,” Bucky said, making Tony stop moving. His head dipped and Bucky knew he was listening, even if he didn’t want to show it. “I’m going back to New York for the holiday weeks – next week and the one after – and then I’m coming back…” He pressed his lips closed around the word ‘home’. “I’m coming back here. There’s some work that I can only get done in person and that’s in New York. And I miss real bagels.”

At that, Tony laughed and looked back, expression bright. “Whatever. I don’t know why you don’t just fly some out, if you’re so desperate.” He waved a hand over his shoulder. “Do anything you want.” 

An hour later, Bucky looked for Tony to tell him he was leaving. He didn’t know why he bothered, but he felt awkward just leaving without saying anything. He saw Candi talking earnestly with a blond man with the polished look of a politician and shook his head.

After several minutes of hunting, he found Tony in one of the smaller side rooms, a drink in hand, talking to Obie and a lean bald black man with a tightly fitted eye-patch. Obie grinned at something the stranger said and slapped Tony on the shoulder hard enough for him to stagger slightly. At that, Bucky stepped forward without thinking about it.

The black man turned at the movement. His visible eyebrow raised and he stood from the arm of the chair he’d been leaning on. 

“Nick Fury,” he said, reaching a hand out to Bucky. “Nice to meet you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky shook his hand. “James Barnes, hi. Nice to meet you as well.” He glanced back and forth between the three men, catching Obie’s expression as it shifted from disgust back to bland pleasure. “I hope you’re having a good time.”

Fury nodded. “It’s always interesting to see how the Bright Young Things entertain themselves.” 

Obie’s face was all teeth as he laughed. “Don’t encourage Tony, Nick. We’ve got to keep him at the grindstone or we’ll never have the things you’ve ordered.”

“Oh, are we ordering more security weapons?” 

Bucky swung around at the new voice and saw the blond politician strolling up to them. He nodded to Fury and Obie and reached a hand to Bucky.

“Good to finally meet you in person, James. I’ve heard a lot about you. Alexander Pierce.” His handshake was firm and easy and Bucky wondered at his own sudden feeling of being dipped in slime.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sliding his hand into his pocket, hoping it didn’t look like he was wiping his palm off on the inside of his pants. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

Pierce grinned. “Oh, we’ve all heard about the great James Barnes, associate and companion to our dear Tony, here.”

Bucky flicked a glance at Tony, who was draining another glass of some clear brown liquid. His expression was closed and distant.

“Good things, I hope,” Bucky said. 

“Oh, of course,” Obie said, his gravelly voice managing to sound like a threat.

They all stood silently for a moment, then Bucky said, “Anyway, I was hoping to get Tony on his own. I’ll give him back in a minute.” He tipped his head toward the main room and Tony, after a moment, nodded and followed him out. 

As Bucky left the room, he heard Pierce say, “… thought you said he wasn’t going to be here?”

“I’m going home,” Bucky said, pausing a few yards from the doorway. “I didn’t want to just disappear.”

Tony’s arm lifted and for one minute, Bucky thought he was going to hug him. But then, all Tony did was pat him on the arm. “Sure, thanks. Good thinking. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be back just after New Year,” Bucky said, not sure why he was so worried about this. He’d gone on business trips before without feeling so anxious.

“Right.” Tony stepped backward. “Have fun. Bring some of those bagels back, if you want.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and looked like he wanted to say something else, then he shrugged. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

Bucky watched him walk back to the side room and wondered when Tony had started looking so small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing some research into the what happened in the back of canon and holy shit, guys, there's some bad stuff happening there, yikes!


End file.
